Love, Lies and Lemondrops
by Lilies in the pond of Doom
Summary: Why on earth would Hermione date Draco Malfoy, and vice versa? Well, here's how it happened. WARNING: May contain excessive description of clothing and hair, and bad poetry. Not to be taken too seriously. HrD, HrR, HG and so on. Completed, AU
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: JK Rowling's characters are not ours.

A/N: It's just a prologue. More to come! No offense to Dramione shippers. There are plenty of well-written stories about it out there.

**Prologue – Sunday**

The air was smoky in the Leaky Cauldron. On this dark, stormy night, many an unsavoury character had taken shelter within its cold brick walls. It was a merry place, where unfortunate souls, beaten down by the harsh realities of wizarding life in the aftermath of the war, could sit back, relax and forget their troubles over a pint of mead. It was a place where you would not be judged, a place where you might find a friendly face in an otherwise unfriendly world… the dancing monkeys were not to be sneezed at either.

"Where did you find them, Tom?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Tricks of the trade, miss," the bartender answered. "Now, what'll you be having?"

"Give me a whiskey," she said, smiling tiredly. "With gilly water on the side. And don't be stingy, baby."

Tom looked sceptical.

"Whiskey with gilly water? I wouldn't drink that if I were you, miss. Tried it meself once I have, and my tastebuds were dead for a week. The aftertaste is… truly horrible."

"Oh." She paused. "Well, just give me a small sherry then."

"Righty-ho."

Hermione stared moodily into space. She sadly played with the ashtray, sulkily twirled a strand of hair around her finger, and stretched in a very angsty way. What a week it had been! And the next one would be even worse.

She caught sight of her reflection in the window, and examined her hairdo carefully. Her hair was pin straight, glossy, and a warm shade of cinnamon, with honey streaks. Crookshanks had tried to eat it.

It was perfect.

Of course it was perfect. She had spent… what? Three hours? Five? Straightening it out. And for what? Ron didn't care about her hair, so why should she?

Hermione sighed, wallowing in her own unique brand of misery. What had she done to deserve this? Everything had been going so well! Of course, it was she who had started it. It was she who had been suspicious, she who hadn't stopped asking questions about…him. It was her own fault really, but that didn't make the current situation any more pleasant.

-

From the darkest, smokiest, gloomiest corner of the room, someone was watching. Someone with shining, silver eyes, which could pierce like daggers, or sparkle like moonlit mercury. Someone with skin like marble, and cheekbones chiselled as if by Hephaestus himself. Someone with hair which… well, which defied description really.

Yes. Switzerland had changed Draco Malfoy.

He was no longer a pointy, pale shrimp. No longer was his smirk annoying to behold. It was roguish. Devilish. All around, it was far more attractive than it should be. No bully was he, for his eyes had seen what none his age should ever have to witness. Why, his own mother wouldn't recognize him.

His singed ear could attest to that.

There was a pain in his heart. A deep, twisting, agonizing splinter of knowledge that seared his very soul. There were trials to come. There were things he had to do – unspeakable things. And all because of… his father.

Who else?

That evil man. All his life, Draco had wanted to do nothing but make him proud. To ask such a thing of him, at this point in his life, was beyond cruel.

He had been so happy to see him released from Azkaban. Narcissa had prepared a scrumptious welcoming feast, to which she had invited all of their friends who were still alive and un-incarcerated. And there, in front of all the guests, the bomb was dropped.

Still, it was best not to think of it like that.

Moving forward gracefully like a panther – or at least like a really big cat – he went and sat down by the beautiful girl. Granger. But she was not like the Granger he remembered. Her hair looked better, for one thing. It made him feel warm inside, and strangely hungry.

"Granger," he drawled, his voice cold, yet amused, like the winds that blew in the high alps. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a rough joint like this?"

"Malfoy," she responded, her eyes gleaming like fiery topazes, a challenge in the tremor of her voice. "Of all the pubs in all the towns in all of Britain, you walk into mine."

"Well, it's a popular place, isn't it… wait, did you say _yours_?"

"Yes. I bought the Leaky Cauldron last summer. Didn't you know?"

"No, I was… abroad," he said, ominously. "But you, the owner of _this_ place? I don't think anyone anticipated that."

"No," she said, proudly. "They did not." She smiled mirthlessly. "Oh, it was all going so well, Malfoy. We were raking in profits from our vampire cure, and I was happy. Really happy. But I don't suppose you understand that. And now it's all gone."

"What, all of it?"

"Yes – well, not the money of course. We're still disgustingly rich. But none of that matters. Malfoy, don't you see? I'm heartbroken!"

"Oh, I didn't realize that." He paused. "Is it Potter?"

"What? Harry!? No!"

"Oh. The Weaselette, then?"

"You mean Ginny? No… neither of us swing that way!"

"It's not my father is it? Please tell me it's not him."

"That's disgusting, Malfoy! Where could you get an idea like that?"

"Well, going in and out of Azkaban all the time, he's sort of gone round the bend. You never know."

"It's Ron I'm talking about! Obviously!"

"Ron," he exclaimed, smacking his forehead. "Ron. Right. Of course. I tend to forget about him."

"That's part of his charm," she said, smiling wistfully. "But it's over now. We… we had a fight…"

"But, don't you two always-"

"Yes, but this one was different. We said some awful things!"

"Well, I know how you feel, more or less. Millicent, she… while I was at that place… she cheated on me."

Hermione gasped.

"Yes. I came home to find her engaged. To Goyle, of all people."

"Oh, how terrible."

"Yes, it's like half of me has been ripped away. Blaise Zabini and my pet doxy Hans have been my only friends in this hard time. Which reminds me. Why am I talking about this to you?"

"I'm not sure," said Hermione, and all of a sudden her demeanour became as cold and distant as before. "Why don't you leave me alone with my misery, Malfoy."

"Granger," he said, inclining his head mockingly. He withdrew as quietly and smoothly as he had arrived.

Hermione felt sorry that she had cut off their conversation so brusquely. But there was only so much she could take of his arrogant face, even though it was rather prettier than she remembered it.

She smiled to herself and took a sip of her sherry. Something very interesting had happened tonight. She would contemplate their conversation for a long time.

After tipping the dancing monkeys a suitable amount, she rose from her barstool and made her way out into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: There you have it, short and sweet. We're busy with school, but hope to update next week sometime anyway. **

**Disclaimer: All J. K. Rowling's.**

**Chapter 1. – Monday**

It was the beginning of an unpromising week, and appropriately, it rained. Hermione was not aware of this, for she was deep underground. Through dark, dusty hallways she walked, holding her lit wand ahead of her like a torch. She could appreciate that this secrecy was necessary, but she found the journey to the "lair" more irksome each time.

"Slipshod," she muttered under her breath, and the doors opened, revealing a brightly lit, thoroughly untidy room.

"Hermione! Welcome back," said Harry.

"Hello, Harry. How's the master plan coming along?"

"I don't know. You tell me. It was your plan anyway," Harry said, frowning.

"Well, yes, but… what have our spies found out, then?"

Harry opened his notebook, with a flourish. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Harry, why are you wearing sunglasses?"

Harry shrugged and removed them.

"Let's see," he said, examining his notes. "After your "random" encounter, Malfoy left the Leaky Cauldron, and headed for… his house."

"Ooh."

"Outside the gates, he met… someone."

"Who?"

"I don't know! I can't read Ginny's handwriting. Can you decipher this?"

"Let's see. It's… Septimus? No, wait… I think it says… Oh my God, Harry…"

"What?"

"Severus Snape!"

"No!"

"Yes," said a voice from the shadows. "It was indeed that elusive potions master whom you call Severus Snape."

Hermione jumped. Harry wheeled around.

"So, you're back," he said.

"Yeah. I did some shopping," said the voice, and Ginny emerged. "Got the ingredients you wanted."

Hermione let out the breath she'd been holding. Harry glanced worriedly at her, before turning to Ginny.

"Ginny, I love you, but please don't do that," he said. "You nearly gave Hermione a heart attack!"

"You look a bit shaky too," said Ginny, grinning.

"How did you pop out of the shadows anyway? I didn't hear you open the door."

"Ah, let me tell you," said another voice from the shadows.

Harry eyed the shadowy section of the room suspiciously, but Ginny was laughing. Then out of the shadows stepped Fred. At least they assumed it was him, because there was a big 'F' printed on his jumper, but of course they couldn't know for sure.

"When did you come in?" Hermione asked him.

"That's what I'm getting at. It's our latest invention: the shadow-caster and door-silencer combined. We have yet to come up with a good name for it, but it's highly effective."

"I realize that. That's perfect!"

"Yes, it gives us the element of surprise!" Harry said cheerfully. "What, it's got to work sometime," he added when he noticed the others glaring at him. "Three's the charm!"

"Anyway," said Hermione, after hitting Harry lightly on the arm. "Where's Ron? I want to see him."

"Now, Hermione," said the red-haired twin who might or might not be Fred. "You know you can't see him during this _operation. _You're a terrible actor."

"He's right," said Harry. "Malfoy needs to think you're miserable about something concerning Ron. Therefore you have to be."

"But I'm not that bad," said Hermione, annoyed.

"Yes you are, Hermione," Ginny said gravely, putting a comforting arm around her friend. "Anyway, none of us are enjoying this, except maybe Fred and George… Where is he anyway?"

"Fred's on a date," said George, sourly.

"With who?"

"Sally-Anne Perks."

"Who, that drop-out?"

"Yeah, she's selling umbrellas now, though apparently she's aiming for a singing career. Fred thinks she's really attractive."

"Anyway," said Harry, trying to get the conversation back on track. "Why don't you give us an account of what Malfoy and Snape were talking about, Ginny?"

"Oh, yes, let me see my notes. Mm… Well, Malfoy remarked that it rains much less in Switzerland. Snape said it must have snowed there instead. Malfoy confirmed this, and told him he had almost seen a yeti once. Snape pointed out that there aren't any yetis in the Alps. Malfoy agreed, and explained that that was why he had only 'almost' seen one. Then they went inside."

She looked up at them.

"That was all?" said Hermione at length.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. But we can continue to dog him for you. We're bound to find out something."

"Yes. And in the meantime I will continue the _operation._ It's eleven o'clock now, isn't it?"

"Yes it is. Hurry, or you'll miss him."

"Good luck," said Harry.

"Take care," said Ginny.

"Go charm his socks off, Hermione," said George.

"Yeah," said Hermione, but there was something bleak and hopeless in her expression.

-

Malfoy was buying groceries. He did this every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, because he had to. Their house elves had been discharged, another earth-shattering change which had occurred in his absence.

He frowned, as he regarded the dairy products in the floating icebox. What was it father had said? Hungarian or Slovenian goat milk? If he didn't get it right, everything would fail.

And then he would have to come in there one extra time, and talk to those annoying store clerks again, as if he didn't have better things to do with his life.

Deciding to let fate settle the matter, he closed his eyes and reached out into the unknown. When he opened them, he found he had grabbed hold of a jar of cottage cheese.

Well, they could probably make stew with that as well, he thought.

Just then he heard what was unmistakably the sound of a beautiful young lady dropping all her groceries. Without even thinking, he dived into the next aisle and elegantly rolled over to the place where she was, to give what assistance he could. If there was one thing that had been ingrained in him during his excursion on the continent, it was to always help a fair maiden in need.

"Here," he said, gathering up the groceries with one swoop of his wand. Then he looked up, and realized who the damsel was.

"Granger!"

"Malfoy!"

They stood staring at each other in confusion for a moment. Malfoy felt like cursing. She had taken him completely off-guard. He knew he needed to talk to her again, but not _now_…

"Granger," he said, having collected himself somewhat.

"Malfoy," she responded, having also regained her composure. "What brings you to this neck of the woods? Don't your house elves do this work for you?"

He chose to ignore that, responding instead with a question of his own.

"Why don't you use magic to levitate these groceries? They're obviously too heavy for you."

"Well Malfoy, some of us don't mind a bit of exertion," she snapped.

He flared up immediately.

"Don't talk to me about exertion! Have you climbed a mountain, wearing only your lederhosen? Have you ever been lost on the Aletsch, the longest glacier in Europe, equipped with nothing but your wand and your wits? Have you ever-"

But there he stopped short. No. He did not want anyone to know about what had happened in St Gallen.

Hermione gave him a weird look. He took a deep breath.

"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about," he croaked. "I've just been thinking. We've both changed since before I left, and maybe, just maybe, we can co-operate?"

This surprised her, he could tell.

"So you're saying you need my help?"

"Well, yes. I think we could help each other. What you told me last night, about… about…"

"Ron."

"Yes, Weasley. And me having a really bad break-up with Millicent. I thought, perhaps, you and I could get back at them."

"Get back at them?"

"Yes, you see, what I'm thinking is, what does Millicent hate most of all in the world?"

"Muggleborns?"

"That's right. And what does Ron hate the most?"

"You?"

"Exactly. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

A look of comprehension dawned on her face. She started to smile.

"Tell me more," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: This is J. K. Rowling's world, not ours. **

**A/N: Esto es para las personas que necesitan más. **

**2. - Tuesday**

It was raining again, but she felt optimistic. Tuesday was normally a boring day for Hermione, but today was going to be different.

After she'd finished her paperwork, she took a stroll down to the hair dresser around the corner. She sauntered through the door and looked around. It seemed they had refurnished every time she set foot in the place. In fact, it looked as if they were doing it again. A chair was floating by lazily, and as she watched, the wallpaper shifted from magnolia to ivory. It took a while for her to notice a hat stand which was patiently waiting for her to get out of the way.

She wasn't there to admire the scenery, however. She walked briskly up to the counter, and smiled at the pretty, dark-haired woman with the butterfly earrings, who was standing behind it.

"I'm going to need a special haircut today, Parvati," she said.

"Oh, Hermione," Parvati exclaimed. "But you were only here last week!"

"Yes, but today I need to look _spectacular_."

"I understand perfectly."

Hermione sat down in a chair. She might not always see eye to eye with her former classmate, but when it came to hair, she was forced to acknowledge that there was no greater expert. Besides, Parvati was practically sane compared to her partner, Lavender.

"So, who is he, Hermione?" said the latter, giggling as she entered through a backdoor, a can of hairspray in one hand and a roll of carpeting in the other.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, with an expression of feigned innocence.

"You know full well what I mean. Hermione Granger doesn't go to the hairdresser two times in one week for no reason. Tell us all."

"Weeell, this may surprise you, so don't cut my ear off while I explain."

She told them who it was. Parvati didn't take her ear off, but it was a close shave. Lavender dropped what she was holding in order to clap her hands to her mouth.

"Are… are you sure you're… quite well, Hermione?" said Parvati, tentatively.

"Of course I'm well," she said. "Never better. He's turned over a new leaf, alright. He's different. You should have seen the way he acted towards me yesterday. And you know he never joined the dark side."

"Only because he grew scared and ran off. And he didn't join _our _side either!"

"He had problems with his parents. Look, I think he's changed. Anyway, it's not like I'm marrying him or anything. It's just a date."

"But… he tried to kill Dumbledore, didn't he?" said Lavender in a small voice.

"Can't we try to see past that? It's been two years since Voldemort was defeated, and we have to forgive and move on. It's time to make love, not war!"

Hermione could hardly believe what she was saying. Neither could Parvati and Lavender, as was evident by their shocked expressions.

"Oh, I don't mean it literally," she said quickly, blushing furiously.

"No, of course not," said Parvati.

They were quiet for a while, and only the snipping of the scissors could be heard.

"Well, you like your Death Eaters, don't you, Hermione?" said Lavender with a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

"What do you mean? Ron's not a Death Eater, and you know Krum was a spy for our side!"

"Yes, but McLaggen!"

"Oh, you're right. I'd forgotten about him."

"That McLaggen," said Parvati darkly. "I swear he joined the dark side just to spite Harry, because he didn't get to be on the Quidditch team." Lavender nodded.

"That's what everyone says," she agreed. Then a bell rang as the door opened, and she hurried off to take care of the new customer.

"Ginny!" Hermione heard her shriek. " You look fabulous! Did he pop the question yet? Well, it'll be any day now…" Parvati paused her ministrations, meeting Hermione's eyes in the mirror.

"Look," she said soberly, "I won't lie to you, I don't like this Malfoy business. But during all the years we've known each other, you've always been the logical one, the voice of reason. So I'll trust you not to do anything stupid." This made Hermione feel a little guilty – but only a little.

"Thanks. And you know, I never said anything when you went out with that waiter who used to throw coffee at customers he didn't like."

"No, you never did," said Parvati, sadly. "You never gossiped like the rest of us." Then she smiled. "Ringlets?"

"Oh, yes please."

On her way out, Hermione chanced a look at the high, vaulted ceiling. It was carpeted.

Lavender whizzed past on her broomstick, stopping when she noticed Hermione's expression.

"We're trying a new look. Do you like it?"

"It's very interesting," said Hermione. "I'll see you later."

"Goodbye! Tell us if it goes well!"

Hermione merely waved, and walked out the door.

-

They made a great-looking pair, her being causally elegant and him being stylishly dishevelled.

Hermione had dressed very carefully, he noted. She wore a brown suede jacket which fit her perfectly, green silk gloves and a matching beret, black tailored trousers and fashionable brown leather boots. Her hair fell over her shoulders in unnaturally soft ringlets, which caught the pale October sunlight breaking through the heavy clouds, framing her delicate features in a golden halo.

He wasn't badly dressed either, even if he did say so himself, he reflected. His hair was carefully styled so that it managed to look rugged without looking unkempt. His eyelashes had been carefully curled and painted, to make it look like they hadn't been curled and painted. Although it went against his deepest moral principles, he had abandoned his robes in favour of an ebony suit and a matching silver-headed cane. His dress shirt was the deepest crimson. And his shoes were so highly polished that he could see his own reflection in them without even looking. A number of passers-by were blinded by the brilliance of his smile.

He snapped out of his reverie when he noticed Hermione standing in front of him, looking impatient. He tore himself away from the window, where he had been staring at his own reflection for three minutes.

"Well, 'darling'," he said smoothly. "We sure do look grand." She snorted, which he chose to ignore. "However," he continued, "I doubt my parents will be impressed by your getup."

She seemed annoyed.

"Look, I went through a lot of trouble and expense. You could have told me if you wanted me to wear something particular."

"No, you don't understand. I don't want to impress them. I want to make them upset, which means your outfit's perfect!"

"Well, I don't! I've seen your parents when they're upset, and I'm too young to die!"

"What, I thought the point of this whole arrangement was to-"

"No, the point of it was to make Ron and Millicent insanely jealous, not to piss off your crazy parents! I understand I have to meet them for authenticity's sake, but not if there's going to be a fight."

"Alright, then we can start with Ron."

"Are you sure?"

"Certainly. Why not?"

"You are prepared if he flings any hexes, aren't you?"

He raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

"You don't honestly think that oaf could hit me with a hex?"

"Don't underestimate him, Malfoy."

"Draco. Call me Draco."

"Right. Sorry, Draco."

"Now, try to look sweet and loving, alright?"

"Alright. To the park. He'll be there, teaching junior Quidditch."

"What?"

"Oh, yes, he was going to be a healer, but then he was offered that job, and… I suppose that kind of thing also helps people, in a way. Now, come on."

Neither of them talked much, as they made their way to the underground parking lot. In there, the entrance to the park was skilfully disguised as a disused emergency exit. They stepped through the gateway. Little did the Muggles know, that the rusty old door led to a magically beautiful garden, which stayed green all year round.

Out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy spotted Neville Longbottom talking to the Weasley girl. He was sure Hermione had seen them too, but she didn't alert them to their presence. _Hm. That's interesting. _

They ambled along a picturesque walkway, hearing only the birds and the laughter of children, seeing only each other.

Ron was bound to notice them soon.

Sure enough, within minutes they were accosted by something red, blurry and angry. Ron leaped off his broomstick before he had even come to a full stop.

"Hermione, what are you doing!?" he shouted.

"What do you mean, what am I doing?"

"Why… what… why are you with _him?!"_

Ron was nearly incoherent with rage. Draco placed a protective arm around Hermione, which made him even more furious.

"Keep your hands off her, you parasite!"

This was a big moment. Draco knew he had to keep his Zen, in order to come across as the better man. Therefore he remained calm.

"Who are you to tell this lady – or me, for that matter – what to do?"

"Yes, Ron, I'm sick of you dominating my life!" Hermione chimed in. "We're finished! I don't ever want to see you again!"

Stereotypical, but heartfelt words. And she was pretty when she was mad. Why had he never noticed that before?

Because he hated her guts, probably. But that was a minor problem at the moment.

"But why Malfoy? Why _him?" _

"Draco is a gentleman, unlike you. Now get out of my sight!"

"I'm going to kill you for this," Ron said to Draco, who merely smirked (roguishly).

"You will do nothing of the sort," Hermione snapped. Ron started when he saw that she had her wand pointing at him.

"But Hermione – I – I'm just looking out for you! I just want you to be happy!"

"Then stay away from me!"

She turned on her heel, and marched away. Draco didn't follow her immediately. Instead, he gave Ron a cold look, which Ron returned in full measure.

"You lose, Weasley," he said, when Ron broke away from the staring contest. With a parting smile, Draco turned to follow his lady love.

He didn't get far.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: It all belongs to J. K. Rowling**

**A/N: Here's another chapter! Wednesday isn't done yet, though, it'll continue in the next one. Thanks so much for the reviews! They inspire us. **

**3.-Wednesday**

When Draco opened his eyes, he was no longer in the park. It took a while for his disoriented brain to realize that he was lying in a bed, with something very wet against his forehead. Upon examining his surroundings, he decided that he wasn't in St: Mungo's.

"Hello, Draco," a smooth voice said, as someone removed the damp towel. "How do you like my new apartment? State of the art, of course."

He knew that voice all too well.

"Blaise," he muttered. "Thank God it's you, for a second I thought I was back in- never mind. What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock. You've been out of it for a while."

"Eight? Oh, bugger..."

"Eight o'clock in the morning."

"Bloody hell! What kind of a curse did that weasel hit me with? I'm going kill that little..."

"Later. Right now, have some of this." Blaise handed him a glass, with a small amount of amber liquid in it. Draco sat up, and downed it with a grimace.

"What kind of a foul potion is this?" he spat.

"Brandy. Muggles drink it all the time."

Draco shot a cold glare at his old friend.

"Muggles? And you allow that stuff in your flat?"

Blaise matched Draco glare for glare. Blaise was in fact much more skilled at glaring than Draco was, although the latter would never admit it.

"Well, look who's talking. That cute _mudblood_ girl you were on a _date_ with yesterday helped me get you back here. She left you a note, by the way," he said in a more neutral tone of voice, handing Draco a slip of paper. On it was written:

_Draco, sweetheart, I'm not one to say 'I told you so', but honestly, you should have seen that one coming. However, I do hope your headache isn't too bad. You'll be buying me clothes this afternoon, for when we meet your parents. Remember, it was you who insisted. _

_Love and kisses, H_

"Real sweetie, that, ah, friend of yours," said Blaise, smirking as he lounged against the wall. "Your parents must be really thrilled that you found such a charming, well-bred young lady to keep you company."

"All right, Blaise, drop it," said Draco irritably. "Don't tell me you didn't recognize her. She's Granger, Potter's right-hand ma- woman," he corrected himself. "And not only can we get to Potter through her, I can also use her for the... _rite_."

"Oh, the... _rite_. I see." Blaise looked thoughtful. "But don't you think you might have bitten off more than you can chew, picking Granger of all people? She's hardly known for her docile temper."

"Ha," Draco scoffed. "You should have seen her last Sunday in the Leaky Cauldron. She fell for me like an _avalanche_. And believe me, I know about avalanches." Blaise still looked skeptical.

"I really wouldn't have thought you'd be her type," he said.

"Didn't you know? I'm everybody's type," Draco drawled, flipping his hair out of his eyes expertly. Blaise frowned, still managing to look more suave than his friend.

"Look, do you honestly believe that she'll turn against her childhood friends, for whom she was willing to sacrifice her life during the war, for... Well, for _you_?"

"Uh, well, sure," said Draco, though he sounded less than certain. Blaise sat down at the foot of the bed, smiling pityingly at his friend.

"You're not feeling like yourself right now. I can't say I blame you, that was one nasty hex. Tell you what, though; I'll go with you this afternoon, and assess the situation myself. Then together we'll think of something, all right?"

"... Fine," Draco muttered.

-

It was a beautiful day. For once. The birds twittered cheerfully in the golden treetops, and beetle eyes glittered like tiny diamonds in a basket outside the potions' supplies shop nearby. But Hermione was impatient. She had waited there for fifteen minutes. Of course, she hadn't been very specific when she said 'this afternoon', but surely everyone knew the afternoon started at precisely two o'clock. And the bright sunlight was beginning to give her a headache.

"May I buy you an ice cream, young lady?"

She wheeled around, only to find herself face to face with a man who she would have considered handsome, had he not been Blaise Zabini, the smug, sarcastic Slytherin super-snob.

"Hey," said Draco, hurrying to catch up. "That's my line!"

"And you missed it. Better luck next time," said Blaise.

Hermione smiled. She might enjoy this day after all.

Together, the three of them set off towards Madam Malkin's, Hermione leading the way.

They entered the shop, and looked around. Draco soon found a set of robes he thought seemed suitable. They were form-fitting and low-cut, seemingly designed with corsets in mind. They were made from dark green velvet, and spangled with silvery bangles. There was lace, and lots of it. Both Hermione and Blaise were revolted.

"No, no, no!" Said Blaise, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Draco, you're my friend and I love you, but you have the fashion sense of a gnat! God... Look here," he went on, grabbing Hermione by the arm and holding the dress up in front of her. "Look. She has light brown hair, so most greens will work, yes. But bangles? What were you thinking? Also, someone with her figure doesn't need something that's cut to fit a toothpick. She's not going to look fat whatever she wears, so try for something she'll be able to breathe in, all right?" He stopped to take a breath, but before Hermione could get a word in edgewise, he was off again.

"Lace is only attractive in small quantities, or when used to accentuate an otherwise plain garment, and Merlin knows it should not clash with the color of the dress! If you want something silver, then jewelry will do the job, or a nice, plain trim. No bangles!"

As he was ranting, he failed to notice Hermione slipping away, wandering off between the racks of clothes.

"All right, all right! I'm sorry!" Said Draco. "I just thought that it would impress my mother!"

"Since when is your mother blind?"

Draco stiffened at the remark.

"I apologize for offending your delicate sensibilities, Zabini. Henceforth, I shall be sure to always refer to you for counsel in such grave matters as these-"

Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Good Lord, Draco, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me? Why, there's nothing wrong with me! Why would there be anything wrong with me? You're the one who threw a fit!"

"Draco, you're acting childish!"

By this time, Hermione was fed up with their bickering. She had picked out a robe which she rather liked, and as soon as they gave their approval she was going home, to prepare herself mentally for that evening. She went over to the two males.

"So, what do you think?" she asked, striking a pose. They stared.

"That's... great," said Blaise, who recovered first. "That's... perfect." Draco simply nodded.

Hermione gave herself a mental pat on the back. She had expected their reactions, of course, but it was still rather gratifying.

The dressrobes were black and floor-length. They hugged her figure loosely, with a neckline that was off the shoulders, and had wide bell-sleeves. It laced up in the back with thin ribbons. There were no frills, no trims, and no bangles. But it was beautiful in its simplicity, the kind of dress she had always wanted but had never felt... well, dark enough, to buy. Around her neck she wore a slim silver chain with an emerald pendant. She had bought it earlier that day; it wasn't as though she didn't have the cash to spend, and in any case she felt that the occasion warranted it.

"Come along then, darling," she said to Draco after she'd changed back into her normal clothes. "Time for you to buy me a little present!"

-

Draco and Blaise flooed back to Blaise's apartment, where they both indulged in another couple of glasses of "that Muggle abomination", as Draco liked to call it. He gave Blaise a questioning look.

"So, what do you think? Do you suppose it will work?"

"Sorry, my friend. Not unless you slip her a really strong love potion."

"But I can't do that! Her friends would notice, and besides, it would wear off! I can't monitor her twenty-four hours a day, can I?"

"No, you can't ," said Blaise tiredly. "I guess you'll have to turn on all that charm you think you have, tonight, if you want to reel her in."

"'Want' is not the word you're looking for here, Blaise. Father ordered me to do this, and now he's so far off his rocker I don't know what he'll do if I go against him! I have to get Granger to fall in love with me somehow, disgusting though it is."

"Disgusting? I don't know, I thought she looked pretty... fetching in that dress."

"Fetching!? Don't - don't _say _that!"

Blaise chuckled.

"Oh, come now, you can't deny that you were impressed, I saw the way you looked at her."

"Why, you - Don't - don't even think that! That's horrible!"

"Pressing your buttons is so easy, Draco, there's almost no point in trying. Run along home now, and practice that love-struck look of yours. _I've_ got a _real_ date."

"A date? With who?"

"No-one you know." Suddenly, the otherwise so cool and collected man got a starry-eyed look on his face. "Her name is Serpentina Flaxenlox, and she's... amazing... Simply amazing... Well, see you."

As he left the apartment, Draco considered his friend's odd behavior.

"Serpentina Flaxenlox," He muttered under his breath. "Sounds ominous."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Valentines' day special! Expect silliness and much bad rhyming. Also, apologies are sincerely offered to the various languages which we mangled in order to make our rhyming scheme work. Not least English. **

**Disclaimer: 'Tis J.K. Rowling's. All of it.**

**4. – Still Wednesday**

Hermione and Ginny were sitting in the former's kitchen, drinking cocoa and chatting, seemingly at their ease.

"So," said Ginny at length, "I think today went rather well."

"Well enough, anyway," said Hermione. "I hadn't counted on Blaise showing up like that, but it worked out all right in the end."

"It worked out fine," Ginny reassured her. "But really, Hermione, you need to start acting as if you actually like Malfoy, or he'll never fall for you."

"I can't just pretend to fall in love with him overnight, can I?" her friend retorted. "That would never be believable. Anyway, you could be a bit more circumspect, yourself. I saw you today in the shop, and yesterday, both in the park and at Parvati's. There's no point in you spying, is there, if you get recognized everywhere you go."

"I can't help it! I hadn't realized I had so many friends, and they keep blowing my cover!"

"You need to get yourself a better disguise, then. Something other than dying your hair green."

"I thought it looked kind of cool, though."

"Yes, well, it hardly made you stand out less than before, did it?"

Ginny decided to change the subject.

"I'm a bit jealous of you, you know," she said. "I love a good party."

"So do I," replied Hermione. "But this party is hardly likely to be of the 'good' variety. Hanging out with Malfoy and his crazy family isn't exactly on my list of enjoyable activities."

"I guess you're right," said Ginny. "But don't worry. I intend to keep an eye on you all through the evening."

"Wha- you don't actually think they'll let _you_ in, do you? No offense," she added hurriedly.

"None taken. It would almost be more offensive if thought they _would_ want to associate with me. No, I intend to smuggle myself in, using a clever disguise."

"Which is...?" Hermione asked, when Ginny didn't elaborate.

"Catering staff!"

"And the Malfoys are going to employ you, are they?"

"The Malfoys? No. The _firm_ which they are employing, however, is another cup of tea entirely."

"But how can you be sure they'll give you a job? You have no catering experience whatsoever!"

"No, I don't. But this is a rather special firm we're talking about, here. "The Red-Headed Catering League" only employs redheads. It's a theme thing. And a little bird whispered in my ear that one of their waitresses is at home with a cough."

"Ginny, you didn't..."

Ginny gave Hermione a look of wide-eyed innocence, which didn't fool the older girl for a second.

"It's just a cough," Ginny said defensively. "Also, Luna's going to be there too, although she didn't tell me how she was planning to get in." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, that makes me feel a lot better."

-

Hermione felt a shiver run up her spine as she stood at the threshold of the looming manor house. The sky was almost black, and there were no lights in the garden, nothing to lessen the menacing feel of the place. It was freezing cold. She felt nervous and very much alone.

The worst thing of all was that, when she stepped through the door, she would have to be smiling. Tonight was the night Draco Malfoy had to fall in love with her.

Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell. It chimed a merry little tune, completely at odds with the general atmosphere. Now she didn't know what to think.

For a few tense seconds, nothing happened. Then she heard the sound of approaching footsteps inside, and the heavy door creaked open, to reveal Draco Malfoy. There was the sound of smashing glass. Looking down, she saw that on the floor between them lay a small, broken phial, its contents rapidly evaporating. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead she inhaled a cloud pink vapor. Both she and Draco started coughing and choking.

She glared at him, her eyes watering, and realized something was wrong with the picture. Suddenly everything had acquired a rose tint. She blinked. The tint did not disappear, and her head began to feel sort of fuzzy. Judging by his expression, Draco was as surprised as she was.

She cleared her throat and said,

_"Say Draco, what is going on here?_

_I feel like I've drunk much too strong beer..._

_Hey, did I just rhyme?_

_And now one more time!"_

_"You sound like your head is quite wrong, dear."_

* * *

_"Well, you just completed the first verse!_

_From now on it only will get worse!"_

_"Oh no, I did not!"_

_"Oh yes you did, snot!_

_And mark my words, this is some foul curse."_

* * *

_"Ah, welcome to our small soiree,"_

_Said Lucius. "Here. Calamaré!"_

_Hermione stared._

_E'en Draco was scared._

_Said Lucius, "You've traveled far, eh?"_

* * *

_"Ah, not really no, I live nearby._

_Although in this dress I don't dare fly,"_

_Said Hermionee._

_She was so sorree_

_That she had come there. "Uh, it's late. 'Bye!"_

* * *

_"Oh no you do not, dearest sweetie,"_

_Said Draco. "Don't let this defeat thee!_

_Do not run and hide._

_Have Gryffindor pride!"_

_"Yes, did you not come here to meet me?"_

* * *

_This last was said by Draco's daddy_

_And Lucius, he was a real baddie._

_Oh sure he was right_

_But try though she might_

_Hermione could not go gladly._

* * *

_Supper was served when it should be._

_Hermione, sad as she could be_

_Awaited with fear_

_As food, it drew near!_

_She dreaded to think what she would see._

* * *

_But she did feel greatly relieved when_

_In the door she spied her old friend!_

_So, Ginny was here!_

_There could be no fear!_

_She wasn't alone in this dead end._

* * *

_"So, Granger," __said Narcissa Malfoy_

_"How came you to start dating my boy?"_

_"Oh, ah, we just, er-_

_You know, boy meets girl?"_

_"I see," __said the lady. "A cheap ploy."_

* * *

_"Oh, no, it is nothing like that!_

_No, really, it isn't! Oh drat!_

_I know what you think_

_That it's just a... _flink,

_But that is completely off bat!"_

* * *

_"Uh, yeah, that's right, you tell them, dearie,"_

_Said Draco. "Come on, my sweet Cherie!"_

_Narcissa said, "Oh?_

_But it doesn't show!_

_For lovebirds, you don't seem so cheery."_

* * *

_This talk, it was doomed to frustrate her_

_Narcissa did already hate her_

_Though she tried her best_

_It was a real pest!_

_The rhyming did not make it greater._

* * *

_"I cannot express myself, curses!"_

_She cried out. "Now open your purses!_

_This I cannot stand_

_We all need a hand_

_Now we're gonna find us some nurses!"_

* * *

_"Oh, come now, you've got it all backwards,"_

_Said Lucius. "Now, think like the blackbirds!_

_Just let us stay calm,_

_No need for alarm_

_And when in doubt, make up your own words!"_

* * *

_"You know what?" said Draco's dear mother_

_"I don't think you love one another_

_But I can't be arsed_

_to dig in your past_

_So go ahead, I won't you smother."_

* * *

_"Your sentence structure is exciting_

_And your idea sounds quite inviting!"_

_Said Draco, sincere_

_"Now 'Mione, dear,_

_Lets get out. I'm sick of reciting."_

* * *

_And that's how the dinner did go_

_Yes, all was confusion, but lo_

_It worked, in a way!_

_And now we must say_

_Goodbye, rhymes. Ching-ching, cheerio!_

-

Hermione and Draco hurried outside. After a few lungfulls of fresh air, they both started feeling somewhat back to normal. For a while, they were too embarrassed to look at each other. Then Hermione broke the silence.

"Er, that was very strange and unnerving."

"Yes. Yes it was," said Draco, who was shaking slightly. "I think it was my father's sick idea of a practical joke."

"Oh. I... see."

They were silent for another couple of minutes.

"But you stood up to them!" Draco suddenly burst out. "I mean... to my mother, even! I'm amazed. Most of the time, even father backs down."

"Well," said Hermione, blushing. "You did support me a bit, didn't you?"

"Me? I barely did anything."

"But it was much more than I had expected of you. You were almost... sweet."

"Thank you. You were... quite nearly... agreeable."

The stars glittered in the heavens, and the cold wind bent the branches of the high poplar trees. All around them, crickets sang their nightly sonnets. Even though it was mid-October. _Magical crickets,_ thought Hermione. _Their rhyming is better than ours was. _

"Say, Draco?" she said, turning to look him in the eye. "I was just thinking... after this hoax is over, do you suppose maybe we could still spend time together?"

"You mean, like friends?"

"Yes, exactly. We could have a cup of coffee every once in a while."

"Oh. Um... alright. That might not be so bad. You know what? I might even like that."

"I'm glad," said Hermione, with a slight smile.

Meanwhile, back in the dining room, the fork she had eaten with was being carefully stowed away in a small safe.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Another one. Sorry for the lateness of this update. The next one might be done more quickly if we get a couple of reviews... motivation, you know. Con-crit would be nice.**

**Disclaimer: It all belongs to Mrs Rowling and we're not making any money.**

**5.- Thursday**

"I don't like this," said Ron, for the five hundredth time.

"So you've said," replied Ginny. They were in the lair, having their afternoon tea. She had long since begun to regret inviting her brother.

"None of us are exactly happy with this," Harry interjected in a half-hearted attempt at peacekeeping.

"Well, it's not your girlfriend who's dating the ferret, is it?"

"_Pretending_ to date-"

"As if I would ever agree to do that!" Ginny interrupted Harry.

"Besides," Harry added, "would it make you any happier if it was Ginny?"

"... No," Ron admitted grudgingly. "But why Hermione, of all people? It's not as if there aren't any other girls in the Order. What about Luna? Couldn't she have done it?"

Ginny immediately flared up.

"Oh, so she's dispensable now, is she? Hermione's too good for this sort of thing, but Loony Lovegood, she can risk her neck _and_ her dignity! Is that it? Huh?"

"You know that wasn't what I meant!"

"Wasn't it? Because that's what it sounded like!"

"All right, calm down, both of you! Ron, you know Ginny's right. Besides, Luna is far more valuable where she is. She's the best spy we've got."

"Sure, side with your girlfriend," Ron muttered.

"Oh, come off it," Harry said tiredly.

"Besides," Ron went on, completely ignoring Harry, "Ginny said Luna didn't even get in last night. Some spy she is!"

"I didn't say that, I said I didn't see her! There's a difference!"

"And isn't that the mark of a good spy? That she _isn't seen_?" Harry looked pointedly at Ginny.

"I did sort of get thrown out," she admitted.

"While Luna delivered _these_ this morning," said Harry, holding up a sheaf of parchments covered in neat handwriting.

"Where did she learn that, anyway?" asked Ron, who had calmed down slightly.

"I'm not sure, but she said something about Snorkak-hunting, and how you have to be really careful."

Ron stared at him.

"Okay," he said after a pause. "I'll buy that. But could you please explain to me how, exactly, Hermione dating Malfoy is going to help us in any conceivable way?"

"Ron!" Ginny exclaimed in exasperation. "We have gone over this so many times already-"

"You might have, but I'm not allowed at your stupid meetings, remember? Because I'd 'endanger the mission'!"

"... Right. Sorry."

"Okay, this is how it is," said Harry. "We all know Lucius Malfoy is up to something, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he seems to be gathering all the remaining Death Eaters to him."

"The problem," continued Ginny, "is that he is rather insane. This makes him unpredictable, which means that he is very dangerous. Meanwhile, the D Es worship him like he's some sort of hero, and will probably follow him blindly to whatever goal he has in mind."

"We have to stop him," Harry concluded.

"I know all that," said Ron, annoyed. "You don't have to tell me the whole back-story. But why does Hermione have to date Malfoy?"

"Because we can't stop him if we have no idea of what he's planning. Hermione's idea was to get that information from his most trusted follower – his own son."

"Who just happens to be Draco Malfoy, the slimy git we've all hated since we were eleven years old? Tell me, why the Hell did you think this would work?"

"But it is working, Ron," said Ginny. "God knows why, but it's working!"

"Yeah. And you don't think that's suspicious?"

"Of course it is," said Harry. "That's why we're having her trailed. Ginny and Luna are capable witches, if anything should happen."

Ron started pacing.

"I don't like this," he muttered. "I don't like this..."

-

Draco was, once again, licking his wounds in Blaise's apartment. The wounds were psychological this time, but no less painful.

"... And we just couldn't stop _rhyming, _and everything we said turned into _limericks, _and it was impossible to even get a coherent sentence out..."

"I'm surprised you even noticed the difference. Here, have another drink."

" ...And father said he just thought it would liven things up! _Liven things up_, Blaise!"

"And what did Mrs. Malfoy say?"

"She didn't say anything, really, just smiled. I'm telling you, it was horrible! And she didn't even bother to be civil to bloody Granger."

"Why should she?"

"We all have to pretend, don't we?"

"Yeah, _we_ have to pretend. But do you honestly think Granger would believe for a moment that your mother would just accept her into the family immediately?"

"Eh, maybe you're right. Anyway, I don't even want to think about last night. How did your date with... what's her name... Serpentia go?

At once, Blaise's whole countenance changed. He straightened up from his relaxed lounging against the wall and, in a frighteningly uncharacteristic gesture, clasped his hands to his heart. The air around him seemed to glitter.

"Oh, Serpentina... with her flaxen locks, her emerald eyes, her gleaming smile, her sea-green nail polish..." Blaise's own eyes were glistening with an otherworldly inner light, and he looked... well, he looked like he was seconds away from bursting into song.

"Right, right, right," said Draco hurriedly. "I get it, that's enough."

Blaise, however, did not snap out of it. He had fallen silent, but was now staring into the distance, with an unmistakably dreamy look on his face.

"Blaise? Blaise! You're worrying me a bit here."

Blaise blinked, and lowered his hands.

"Ah. Sorry. Where were we?"

"Dammit, Blaise, I need you to be supportive of me right now! This is difficult enough as it is, without you just zoning out on me because of some stupid girl."

"Oh, I'm sure it is difficult. Generally any girl will fall head over heels for your money. You've never actually had to work to win one before, have you?"

"I- That wasn't- She's not-" Draco sputtered.

"Oh? Then what's your problem, exactly?"

"My _problem_ is that I have an aversion against stupid bloody mudbloods! Especially her! And now I have to make her fall in love with me."

"You're looking at this the wrong way."

"The wrong way? There is no right way!"

"Of course there is. You're just too dense to see it. Now, listen to my advice; you need to hang on to this girl until the full moon, right? And before then you need to collect lots of items she's used, and get her to perform lots of weird rituals without realizing it, yes?"

"Yes, yes, I know!"

"And your father – who happens to be crazy – has decided that the easiest way to go about this is to make Granger fall in love with you, and make her believe you love her."

"Right."

"Have I said that your father is nuts?"

"You have."

"Well, then, since you are going along with this harebrained scheme anyway –"

"I'm not suicidal, am I?"

"Point taken. Since you are, for the sake of your own good health, going along with this plan, you should try and view it as a challenge."

"A what?"

"A challenge. You know, I bet Potter wouldn't believe you capable of making Granger love you. Wouldn't it make him angry if you succeeded?"

"I-" Draco paused. He could imagine the look on Potter's face when he found out that his best friend, _saint_ Hermione Granger, the know-it-all, the teacher's pet, the mudblood, had betrayed him for his worst enemy. After years of humiliation, oh what a victory it would be.

"You see what I mean, don't you."

"I think I'm beginning to see it, yes. Thank you, Blaise."

"What are friends for?"

-

"Oh, none of this now, Draco. We're just going to discuss plans today, aren't we?"

"I thought they would look great with your coat. I was just trying to be nice."

"But what am I going to do with them?" said Hermione, with a doubtful look at the bouquet of roses he had just given her.

"Just take them with you, for now. It'll be good for our image. Besides, they really do suit you."

"Ah... thanks..."

They walked down Diagon Alley, arm in arm, appearing friendly as could be. It was chilly day. The air was crisp, the sky was blue and the people around them looked like they were freezing. Hermione tried not to pay attention to the cold, focusing instead on the conversation.

"So. Millicent next, then?"

"Yes, that's right. I have found out she'll be going to a poetry reading at Madame Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade tomorrow. We'll meet her there, and it'll cause a scene."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow. Why? What's the problem?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"Nothing, nothing. It's just a bit of a surprise." Then she paused, and looked up at him, frowning. "Do you really think she'll be that jealous? I mean, wasn't it she who cheated on you?"

"Oh, she'll be jealous alright. She really loves me! She just got engaged to Goyle because... because she wants someone to boss around, that's all! You know, I would never let myself be dominated like that."

"No, of course not."

They walked on for a bit, each of them lost in thought. Finally, Hermione sighed.

"There's something else I have to say. I'll be glad to end this charade, but... but, well, I actually enjoy spending time with you more than I ought to. I can't believe I never realized before how... intelligent, and... sensitive you are, underneath that arrogant Slytherin exterior. All those years of bullying and semi-evilness - it was all just a cry for help, wasn't it?"

"Ye-es," said Draco carefully. "That's what it was. You've got me completely figured out."

"You're actually really a friendly, warm, loving man, aren't you?"

"M-hm. Warm and loving, that's me. And you're not really so bossy, bushy-haired and_ Muggle_, are you?"

"No," she said, laughing. "No, it's true, I'm not, really. I've always been really interested in fashion as well as books, but since I'm smart I had to dress like people expected me to. And I've studied my family tree, and I actually have plenty of ancestors who were witches and wizards."

"I could tell. Not that any of that matters, of course. Oh no."

"No, I realized all of those things you always used to say to me were just a... er..."

"Facade. Yes. Yes, exactly. I never really had anything against Muggles or Muggleborns. In fact, I've always admired you. Secretly, of course."

"You admired me?"

"Oh, yes. Actually, I was kind of jealous of you... and Potter. Because of Quidditch, you know. And because he was so close to you, the one girl I couldn't figure out. So I became cold, hardened and..."

"Evil?"

"Only a little, Hermione. The thought of you always kept me from completely going over to the dark side. You and Switzerland."

"Oh", she said weakly. "That is so... sweet. I have to go into this shop now, to buy some-" she looked at the shop window. "- Some rope. For my fence. You can wait outside. I won't be a minute."

She hurried into the shop, closed the door and sagged against it, giving in to the fit of giggles. Wow, he was certainly laying it on thick! How on earth was she going to manage the rest of their walk with a straight face?

Suddenly she became very annoyed with herself, since she would _have _to buy some rope now. She didn't even have a fence, and why she would need a rope for it if she had one, she had no idea. Hopefully that was one of those things Draco knew nothing about.

However, something saved her from having to make her purchase. When she heard raised voices outside, and looked through the window, she saw Draco Malfoy sprawled on the sidewalk, apparently unconscious. He was bleeding.


	7. Chapter 7

**6. - Thursday pt. 2**

Hermione rushed out of the shop, just in time to see several black-clad figures quickly disappear around a street corner. She was about to take up pursuit, but then she remembered Malfoy lying on the ground at her feet, just in time to stop herself from tripping over him.

"Good grief, Malfoy," she muttered under her breath, taking a closer look at him.

As far as she could determine, he wasn't badly injured. A small gash at his temple was leaking blood, but he was coming around.

"Are you all right? Did they take anything?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sincerity. At the same time, she was trying to convince herself that she had certainly _not_ felt a small pang of relief upon seeing that he was unharmed. She decided to focus on the matter at hand.

"They- they attacked me," said Draco, sounding almost disbelieving.

"Well, yes, robbers tend to do that," replied Hermione distractedly, looking at the street corner where the assailants had disappeared.

"Robbers...? They weren't robbers!"

"Of course they were. Now, did they take anything? Wallet? Watch? Jewelry?"

"What? No, Hermione, they weren't robbers. They were Death Eaters!"

She turned, slowly, to look at him.

"No, Draco, I'm fairly sure they were robbers."

"I'm telling you, they were Death Eaters!"

"Look, you've had a nasty shock-"

"Stop being so condescending! I know what I saw."

"Draco, what reason could Death Eaters possibly have to attack you?"

"Obviously they see me as a traitor, for leaving the country instead of fighting."

"If they wanted revenge, they did a rather poor job of it. You've only got a small scratch."

"I hurt my arm too..."

"They wouldn't usually stop at that, though, would they?"

"I scared them off."

"Yes, I can see how lying on the pavement bleeding would be very intimidating."

"Perhaps they realized too many people had seen them."

"If they were that worried about witnesses, then why did they attack you in broad daylight, in the middle of Diagon Alley?"

"Maybe..." He fell silent. "Perhaps," he said at length, "perhaps it was meant as a warning! A "go back to Switzerland" sort of thing."

"Well, that could be plausible. But are you absolutely sure they were Death Eaters?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm sure!" He exclaimed impatiently. "One of them had his sleeves rolled up, and I saw his Dark Mark, all right?"

"It's definite, then. Good. But this is strange, isn't it? They haven't made an organized attack like this for a year, at least. You don't think they're... planning something, do you?"

She watched him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. Malfoy looked neutral, but his voice betrayed a slight annoyance.

"They might be. But remember the World Cup -94? That was organized, but they were just out for a bit of fun, it had nothing to do with You-Know-Who."

"Fun?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"According to them! Don't willfully misunderstand me, you know what I mean."

"Yes, I know." And she did know; she remembered that night all too clearly. "So what do you propose we do about this?"

"We? Are you offering to help me?"

"Well, if- if there's anything I can do-" she said, taken aback.

"Actually, there is. Right now, I really need a place to hide."

"Wait, do you mean...?"

"No one would look for me there. It would be perfect!"

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea..."

"Why not? It's the last place they'd look. Apart from my parents, none of them know about us. And my parents don't want me dead."

Hermione wasn't so sure about that, but she really couldn't come up with any good arguments. She sagged in defeat.

"All right, fine. Come along then, I'll show you my apartment."

-

Draco threw his cloak onto Blaise's dining table with an air of triumph. Blaise winced as the heavy silver fastenings scraped audibly against the finely polished cherry tree wood surface.

"I bring good news, old chap," announced Draco.

"Old chap?"

"I won't be crashing here any more."

"Well, that is good news," said Blaise, eyeing the cloak with barely concealed malice. "So it worked, did it?"

"Yes! Kind of."

"What do you mean, 'kind of'?"

"She didn't accept my story, at first, but eventually I managed to convince her."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!"

"Only, she's a really bright girl, much as I hate to say it, and it was a pretty dumb plan."

"I didn't hear you suggesting anything better!"

"It's not as if you would have listened to me anyway," said Blaise, looking bored. "Besides, I thought it might be amusing to see how all this played out."

"Amusing? Look at my forehead!"

"It's bleeding," Blaise remarked.

"I bloody well know it's bleeding! They really attacked me!"

"What did you expect them to do? Spray you with red paint? I'm sure that this way you put on a much more convincing act."

"Blaise," Draco growled, "I may be many things, but I am not a bad actor."

"Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?"

"...Yes. Shut up."

-

Harry and Ginny were in the lair, engrossed in a heated discussion.

"Gin, I don't care what you say, we are not entering ourselves in Galinda Glint's show!"

"But it'll be fun!"

"I will _not_ sing in public, it's- oh, hi, Hermione."

Hermione stormed into the room, slamming her bag onto the table.

"What am I going to do? _What am I going to do?_" She cried.

"How should I know?!" Harry snapped.

"It was a rhetorical question!" Hermione shot back.

"So was mine!"

"That was a reply, not a question!"

"Well _excuse me_ for not labeling the things I say correctly-"

"Oh calm down, both of you!" Ginny interrupted the them. "This argument is stupid."

"... Yes. Yes, it _is_ stupid," Hermione admitted grudgingly.

"Right. And Harry shouldn't get so upset just because I entered him in a singing contest."

"Er..." said Hermione.

"Anyway," Harry said quickly, "What are you so angry about? It can't be worse than the singing competition."

"Malfoy," said Hermione, her previous distress coming back in full force.

"Well, what's up with him now?" Ginny asked.

"You'd know what was up if you had been there like you were supposed to be, wouldn't you?"

"Hermione, I know that this is hard for you, but don't take it out on me, all right?" Ginny said, suddenly frosty. "Even Aurors are entitled to one day off every week. Is that too much to ask?"

"Besides, Luna was there," said Harry.

"Luna?" Hissed Hermione. "Well, why didn't Luna stop the attack, then?"

"There was an attack?" Asked Ginny, immediately concerned.

"Yes, there was! On Malfoy!"

"Oh," said Harry. "You had me worried for a second, there."

"I'm sure Luna would have done something if it had been serious," said Ginny. "It wasn't, was it?" She added, after a moment's pause.

"Yes, it- well, no, not really. Actually, that's a bit strange..."

"But Hermione," said Harry, "I find it hard to understand how Malfoy getting attacked could make you this upset."

"Oh, it's not _that_. The thing is, now he's coming to live with me!"

For a full minute, absolute silence reigned in the room. Finally, Harry spoke.

"All right, you win. That is worse."

"Merlin, Hermione, why?" Croaked Ginny.

"He said it was for protection, so they wouldn't find him again. Personally, I haven't a clue, but I expect I'll find out."

"I think not," said Harry sharply. "This has definitely gone too far."

"Yes, I agree," Ginny chimed in. "Hang the ministry, it's too dangerous, Hermione! You can't do it."

"Can't I?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "Well, I have to. I don't like this any more than you do, but it was my idea to begin with. Besides, I found out some important information that proves we're on to something."

"What information?" Harry asked.

Hermione shifted uneasily. She couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"You're not going to like this, Harry."

"What am I not going to like?"

"It's... You're _really_ not going to like it. Perhaps you should just leave the room, I'll talk to Ginny..."

"Stop it, Hermione, I had enough of that at school. Just tell me."

"All right, but don't say I didn't warn you. Whatever is going on, it definitely involves You-Know-Who."

Harry stared at her for a moment, then promptly smacked his forehead into the table at which he was sitting.

"Harry!" said Ginny, hurrying over to his side. "Harry, don't!"

He glanced up at her. One of the lenses of his glasses had cracked, and there was an ugly red mark to the right of his scar.

"Why, Ginny?" He asked, almost pleading. "Why won't he bloody die? Why does this keep happening?"

"I don't know, Harry," she replied, grasping his hand in her own. "I just don't know."

"I am so sick of this."

"I know, love, I know," she said softly, running her free hand through the tangled mess of his hair.

"Look, Harry, I'm not at all sure that he's actually coming back," Hermione said, trying to reassure her friends. "It's just- the thing is, Malfoy was really quick to tell me it had nothing to do with him, even though I never even suggested that it did in the first place. It got me thinking. But I'm sure You-Know-Who is still quite dead. I mean, we did destroy every last bit of his soul."

"Yeah," said Harry, but he still looked despondent. Ginny didn't respond at all, and Hermione decided that perhaps she'd better leave.

_Well, _she thought, as she hurried along the dimly lit corridors. _At least he isn't worrying about that contest any more._


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N (Please read!): We're really, really sorry this update was so long in coming. ****We've both been working a lot lately, and that got in the way, but it's no excuse. We'll try to keep it from happening again, but the truth is that it might. IF we're gone for a long time, it doesn't mean that the story has been abandoned. We've got every intention of finishing it.**

**We will definitely NOT stop writing if we don't get any reviews. We're doing this because we enjoy it, after all. However, we still appreciate constructive criticism, and if you can help us keep the characters IC and the plot relatively consistent, we'll be very happy. We'll reply to any questions or comments you might have, if you leave a signed review or include your email address.**

**Cheers!**

**Disclaimer: We own nada. Not even the plot!**

**7. Friday**

The candles flickered, and somewhere far off a cat yowled at the moon. It was one o'clock in the morning, and Harry and Ginny were still arguing.

"No."

"But Harry..."

"For the last time, no! I won't do it!"

"I knew you'd say that. It's not that I really want to go either, it's just- Galinda's a friend, and she needed a celebrity couple."

"Well, she'll have to find someone else."

Harry glared at Ginny.

"But who? It has to be a couple!"

"I don't know. But Hermione runs the Leaky Cauldron. Why don't you ask her if she- Wait a minute... Hermione! Why don't you enter her?"

"You mean her and Malfoy?"

"Yeah. They're both pretty well known. Why not?"

"Harry, that's just plain cruel. I like it, though..."

-

"What are you doing here?!" Blaise demanded. "I'm beginning to get really sick of you."

"I just stopped by to see if you had any more of that Muggle abomination," Draco replied sourly.

"Take it! Take the whole damn bottle! I can't stand to look at that vile stuff, any way."

Blaise sank down into one of his overstuffed armchairs, pressing two fingers against his temple. Outside the sun was shining brightly, but the roomy apartment was dark, as all the curtains were drawn. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Are you- are you _hung over_? You?"

"None of your damn busyness."

"You are!"

Draco only just managed to dodge the brandy bottle which came hurdling towards him.

"Keep your voice down," Blaise hissed.

"What have you been doing to yourself?"

"If you must know, I went to a party with Serpentina."

"Oh Merlin, not Serpentina..." Draco muttered. "All right, I'm leaving."

"Do that, please."

Draco grabbed the brandy bottle – unharmed due to powerful protective charms – and hurriedly left the tragic remains of what had once been the witty, confidant man he had, albeit sarcastically, called friend.

-

"Whose idea was it to have a midnight poetry reading anyway?" Hermione snapped.

"Look, _sweetheart_, I'm just as tired as you are, and just as disinterested. Now let's get it over with."

The cobbled streets of Hogsmead, slick from the rain, were virtually deserted. The door to Madame Puddifoot's was slightly ajar, and through it muted violin music could be heard. Draco took a deep breath, adjusted his cravat one last time, and stepped inside, closely followed by Hermione.

The minute he walked over the threshold, the atmosphere hit him like a brick wall. The combination of the violins, the frills, the pink, and the fumes of at least twenty different blends of tea repulsed him. A kind of solemn anticipation filled the air, and sent chills down his spine. He'd never been big on poetry.

They got seats as close to the podium as they possibly could, although neither one of them really wanted to. For the scheme to work, they had to be seen.

Steeling himself, Draco waved Madame Puddifoot over, and ordered two cups of peppermint tea, and a plate of crumpets. Leaning back in his seat he cast a cursory glance over the crowd, confirming the fact that Millicent was present. She was sitting in a corner, deep in discussion with Goyle, his supposed rival. After a moment she saw him, and nodded stiffly. He ignored this gesture, and turned back to his "girlfriend". Millicent and he were certainly not on the best of terms, although this had nothing to do with her marriage to that oaf. He just didn't like her, plain and simple.

"Aren't you going to talk to her? Make her jealous, or whatever it was you wanted to do?" Hermione asked in a low voice.

"Later," Draco muttered. "I think they're starting now." When her attention was thusly directed toward the stage, he slipped her half-eaten crumpet into a small bag which he put into his inside pocket.

And indeed, shortly thereafter the violin music stopped, and Madame Puddifoot stepped up to the podium, waving her hand for silence.

"Please welcome our first aspiring young poet, Mr. Xenophon Wigglesworth!"

The audience clapped politely as a pale, shaking wizard with a top hat far to big for his head entered the stage. He coughed nervously, before beginning.

"_I who walk alone, beside the __Fwooper of Midnight_

_Ever followed by that squawking Herald of Doom_

_Wings of despair, cruel beak that pecks away my lingering hopes_

_To whit, my soul everlasting_

_By sharp talons born away into oblivion."_

Hermione and Draco waited until they were sure it was truly over, before they started clapping. This evening might end up affording some sort of entertainment, Draco mused, although probably not in the way intended.

The next person up was – to the shock and horror of all – Gregory Goyle. he gazed earnestly at the crowd for a moment from under his thick eyebrows. He cleared his throat and then started speaking in a deep, rumbling voice.

"This is my 'ode to Millicent':

_It's all worthwhile_

_For your sweet smile_

_Oh, Millicent_

_To toil away_

_At work all day_

_So diligent_

_I only pine_

_For you divine_

_Magnificent_

_In your clear eyes_

_My Eden lies_

_Oh, Millicent"_

Everyone applauded wildly, but Draco simply stared at his one-time croney/bodyguard/hitman/friend. This unsavory display reminded him uncomfortably of Blaise. If the behavior of those two was anything to go by, it was a lucky thing indeed that_ he_ wasn't actually in love with his girlfriend, he reflected.

The recitals which followed ranged from the macabre (_"You rip out my still beating heart with your hands / My life-blood dripping o'er your white, twisted fingers / Like ashwinder trails across polished marble"_) to the gushy (_"Like rosebuds your lips / And your soft fingertips / As they dance through your glittering hair"_) to the downright surreal (_"This life / Through time /A stone /In mind / Come see the falling flies / Always"_).

Finally there was a break, and the violin resumed its incessant playing. Draco, who had slipped into a sort of trance, was suddenly and harshly pulled back into reality. Millicent was standing right in front of him, scowling for all she was worth.

"Draco," she growled, her voice as deep and menacing as he remembered it. "You've deliberately come here to spoil my happiness. Why?"

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Millicent," Draco replied in what he felt was a suitably reasonable tone of voice. "I'm here to enjoy a bit of poetry, and spend some quality time with my _girlfriend_. Who I love. Very, very much."

"You hate poetry, Draco. Or have you forgotten how well I know you? And what's more... Merlin's beard, Draco, you've lowered your standards to mudbloods now? What has gotten into you?"

"You're one to talk; you actually married that brutish cave-wizard Goyle."

"Gregory is not a brute! Unlike some people I could mention, he has a very sophisticated appreciation for the finer arts, as you heard."

"What, you mean that drivel he'd written? If that's a poem, then I'm a mooncalf. Furthermore, I have a great deal of appreciation for _real_ poetry!"

"Oh, sure," she snorted. "You and I both know that you wouldn't recognize real poetry if a bookshelf full of Shakespeare sonnets fell on your head."

"_I_ wouldn't recognize poetry? I can speak Latin backwards!"

"So? A cheap parlor trick. Any second-year Hufflepuff can do that. Oh Draco," Millicent went on pityingly, "I knew you for the coward you were when you abandoned your duty and your family to run away from the war, but to see you sink so low... To see _you_ with a mudblood... have you no sense of pride at all?"

"I gave up my pride when I dated you, didn't I? What difference does a mudblood or two make after that?"

When he saw Hermione's expression, Draco realized he had gone too far. He read murder in her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Here we go again...**

**Disclaimer: We don't own anything at all, let alone Harry Potter.**

**8. ****Saturday**

Hermione didn't explode until she'd slammed her apartment door shut behind them, and they were safe from prying ears and eyes.

"I can't believe you! Is that how you think of me?"

"Of course not! I- she goaded me into it-"

"So? How could you say that right in front of me? That is so unbelievably insensitive! And stupid! You knew I was there, you knew I'd get mad! What kind of a _moron_ are you?"

"I- But- Wait. You're not shocked that I said what I did, just that I said it in front of you? Did you never actually believe I had changed, then?"

She paused for a moment, but recovered herself quickly. She couldn't let this one spat ruin everything.

"No one changes that fast, Draco. I know you have these prejudices, but I had thought you were willing to work past them."

"And I am! I'm sorry I let my dark side show in a moment of anger, but there's more to me than that."

"This is nothing so glamorous as a dark side, Draco. It's a prejudice, and a dumb one at that."

Draco looked a bit miffed, but didn't say anything. Hermione sighed tiredly.

"Look. This is something that you will have to get over, if we are ever going to get along. I'm willing to forgive you this once, if you promise to stop behaving like such a bigot. All right?"

Draco nodded slowly, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"I'll try, Hermione. I will. After all, I know muggleborns aren't any different from other wizards – logically, I know it. But you have to understand, these old-fashioned ideas have been ingrained in me since childhood. It's not that easy to shake them off."

"I know, Draco, I know," she said, while inwardly gritting her teeth. "We'll get through this together. I'll give you all the help you need, all right?"

"Thank you, Hermione. If anyone can help make me become a better person, I know it's you."

"Yes, well, we'll see. We're not there yet, that's for certain," she said wearily. "For now, I think what we both need is a good night's rest. I'll show you where the spare bedroom is..."

-

The next morning, Hermione awoke to a blood-curdling scream. She shot out of bed and rushed to the kitchen, expecting to find the place full of Death Eaters, at the very least. What she did find, was quite different.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, just help me get the bloody thing off!" Draco cried, frantically trying to pull his hand out of the toaster.

For a brief moment, all Hermione could think about was how much Ron would have enjoyed this spectacle. But this was the wrong moment to pull out the camera, and she forced herself to focus on the situation at hand.

"Oh, stand still, let me... There you go," Hermione said as she turned the toaster off and removed it.

"Why do you have that contraption in your home?! It's monstrous!"

"I use it to make toast, Draco. I don't stick my hand in there."

"Well, why would you do that when you can just wave your wand and-"

"It was a gift from my parents."

Draco had apparently learnt his lesson from last night's debacle. Hermione could almost see him bite back a derisive comment.

"I see," he said in stead. "Um... know any good healing charms?"

He held out his singed fingers, and Hermione tried not to snicker as she muttered one of the charms she had learnt during the war, patching him up in no time.

As she fried them some eggs and bacon for their breakfast – the muggle way – Draco tried to read the newspaper. Her involuntary glances and sniggering seemed to distract him, however. Finally he gave up, putting down the paper.

"Stop that," he snapped. "It wasn't funny."

"Oh, but it was," she said as she put their plates down on the table. "Only you could think to stick your hand into a toaster."

"I had no way of knowing what it was!"

"So you stuck your hand in there to find out? Your brilliance never ceases to amaze me."

"I resent that. A lot of people could have made the same mistake!"

"That's true. Many five-year-olds do, in fact."

"Are you always this condescending? No wonder Weasley got fed up."

Hermione colored.

"Whatever problems Ron and I might have had, at least he's not an arrogant bigot!"

"You're not bringing that up _again_? We already talked about this! Can't you just let it go?!"

"No! No, Malfoy, I can't! Years of insults don't just go away like that!"

Suddenly, she was literally shaking with rage. All thoughts of the plan were gone. Resentment and anger, bottled up for years, exploded to the surface, clouding her mind and blinding her to everything but her hatred for the despicable person sitting in front of her. Sitting, in fact, at _her_ kitchen table, eating _her_ food, and reading _her_ Daily Prophet.

"Calm down, Granger! I don't see what it is you're getting so upset about all of a sudden."

"No, Malfoy. You wouldn't. Now, please leave my apartment."

"Wait- what?"

"GET OUT!"

Draco did the only thing he could do; he ran for it.

-

When Harry came to visit her that afternoon, Hermione was still fuming.

"Hermione...? Are you okay?" he asked, although she obviously wasn't. Somehow, that just ticked her off more.

"No, I'm not 'okay'! Of course I'm not okay! Why would I be okay?! That bastard, I ought to cut him up in little pieces and serve him to Crookshanks!"

"...I'm guessing this is about Malfoy. What has he done this time?"

"Does he have to do anything? Just him being himself is enough to drive me mad! I can not stand him!"

"You knew that would be a problem before we started this whole thing. You said you could handle it."

"I was wrong, all right? He's been getting on my nerves all week, and today I just snapped! There's no way I can do this any more! You can tell Ron he was right, I bet he'll be thrilled."

"Hermione, calm down!"

"And people need to stop telling me to calm down! Why should I?"

"Sorry," Harry said quickly. "So what happened?"

Hermione sighed in frustration, raking a hand through her tangled mess of hair.

"I don't know, we had a fight over something stupid- no. Actually, there's more to it than that. I guess I was still angry about last night. He said some nasty stuff, the whole mudblood thing came up again..."

Harry frowned, but didn't say anything.

"That's what's been the hardest thing to do this past week, you know. Having to pretend that I'd forgotten about those things, or worse, that they didn't matter. Merlin," she said, with a sardonic laugh, "at one point I even claimed to be descended from witches and wizards, just to smooth things over."

"You did?"

"I'm not proud of it. I guess I thought it wouldn't bother me, because I was doing it to help our side, and it was just pretend anyway. But it did. And suddenly I got so sick of it all."

"I can understand that," Harry said. "Dealing with Malfoy is no picnic, especially if you have to pretend to like him, I suppose. If you want to pull out, that's fine. I never really liked this plan to begin with, and it's not as if it was having a lot of results."

"No, it wasn't a very good idea at all, was it?"

"Not one of your better ones."

"No."

For a while they both sat in contemplative silence.

"Well," Harry said at length, "we need to hold another meeting soon. Decide a new course of action."

"Can we do it tomorrow? I'm still kind of riled up, and for that discussion I'll need a clear head."

"Sure. I'll contact the others, explain the situation. You go take your mind off things."

-

Usually, Hermione's method for taking her mind off things was doing paperwork. Today was no exception; however, as she filed away the last bunch of statistics, she realized with chagrin that she still felt angry. She'd really let that rodent get to her, this time.

Sighing in frustration, she got up and paced her office for a bit. Then an idea hit her. What she needed was to listen to other people's problems for a while.

She had done a bit of bartending after she first acquired the Leaky Cauldron, to get a feel for the business she would be running. Of course, she'd been a bit of a night owl back then, too. That was roughly a year ago, but as Tom said, it was a craft you never really forgot.

She started down the stairs, to go and tell him he could take the night off. She smiled at the thought. He would grouch about it, of course, but she new that even he appreciated a free night now and then. After all, why else would he have sold the bar to her in the first place?

That evening, Hermione sold drinks for all she was worth, listening compassionately to tragic tale after tragic tale. It didn't exactly make her feel better, but it certainly put her own issues in perspective. And as a distraction it was definitely working, since she hardly had time to think, let alone fume.

But the day had not yet taken its last unexpected turn. The clock was ticking its way toward midnight, when Hermione turned around to greet her latest customer, only to find herself face to face with none other than a very plastered Blaise Zabini.

"'Ello, Grennder... Granner? Granger? 'Ello, Granger!"

"Zabini," Hermione acknowledged. "What are you doing here?"

"Gett'n drunk. Wazzit look like?"

"It looks like you already are drunk."

"Gett'n more drunk. G'me two firewskey, plsh."

"You've had a bit too much already, I think. Are you here alone? Is there anyone who can help you get home properly?"

"None of yr bsness, but I'm here w'my girlfriend, Serpentina." Miraculously, he didn't slur her name at all. "She's o'er there, ina booth. Can't see'r from 'ere."

"All right," Hermione replied neutrally.

"You'n Draco, yer a good couple, y'know? We should ha... hang out some time, yeah? Th'four of us."

"Draco and I broke up, Zabini."

"Whaaa?" Blaise exclaimed, almost toppling his stool over backwards. "Nonono, you can't break up. Shtupid Draco. Bloody shtupid. The plan'll be- 'll be ruined! Lucious'll killim! Shnape'll killim too."

Hermione, alert now and listening intently, poured him a couple of fingers of firewhiskey.

"On the house," she said, handing him the glass and watching as he downed it in one gulp.

"Y'know," he said, after a lengthy pause, "guess it doesn' have to be you, r'lly. S'just, poetic jush... jushtissh. Poetic jushtish, yeah? Fitting. Thanks fer th' drink. Going home, now. Need... need to shleep."

"Yeah. Look, Blaise, that girl... She's not good for you."

"Shhhut up. Leave m'lone, I know what 'm doin," He snapped, before half falling off his stool, and unsteadily making his way through the crowd.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, and the lyrics to the wonderful song "At the beginning" belong to Disney. Apparently. **

**A/N: Sooo, here's another chapter, hope you like. The inclusion of this particular song is a bit of an inside joke, so our apologies for that, but the bottom line is that we like it. Kudos to all those of you who know which movie it's from!**

**9- Sunday**

Hermione couldn't stop thinking about what Blaise had said, even though she did her best to take her mind off things. It worried her too much. Had she made a serious mistake, breaking up with Malfoy like that? She really hadn't been able to stand it any longer. And yet, what if they went through with this plan of theirs anyway? Now she'd never find out what it was, and neither she nor her friends would be in a position to stop it.

The plan. She knew it had something to do with You-Know-Who, she just knew it. And the worst thing was that Blaise's little revelation had fallen right in her lap, just after she had blown any chance she had of finding out more. Of that she was very certain, because after the way she ended things, there was no chance of Malfoy going back to her.

The way she felt like then, she reflected, she wasn't sure she would go back to him either, no matter how high the stakes.

That night was a sleepless one for Hermione, as she twisted and turned fretfully until long after the sun had risen, and she gave up, getting stiffly out of bed to make herself an extra strong cup of coffee.

When she got into the kitchen, there was a small spotted owl waiting patiently for her on the window ledge. She opened the window and the owl hopped in, immediately helping itself to some of the cereal from the packet she held in her hand.

Hermione eagerly detached the small note from the owl's leg. Not that she could really bring herself to be interested in its contents, but right then anything that could take her mind of her troubles was a welcome distraction. The note read:

_Hi, Hermione!_

_Harry's talked to me, and I reckon you need some female companionship, so I'm coming over this afternoon. I'll bring some cake, if you supply the tea._

_Love, Ginny_

_P.S. Don't do anything rash! At least not until I get there. D.S._

Rash? Ginny must be mixing her up with herself. Hermione Granger didn't do rash. Unless she was pushed to the breaking point, of course, which did seem to happen quite a lot lately. But all the same.

In compliance with Ginny's request, the most rash thing Hermione did that morning was to have an extra helping of raisins with her cereal. After finishing her breakfast and reading the _Prophet_, she had a nice long shower. She didn't bother doing anything special with her hair; she was happy to let it return to its normal bushy self, now that she didn't have a snotty little ferret to impress.

Aggravatingly enough, these normally calming activities did nothing to settle her growing desperation. For once she honestly didn't know what to do, and she didn't like it one little bit. She was glad Ginny was coming over. She did need a girl to talk to, because this wasn't just about defeating Death Eaters any more. This was about feelings, and while Harry certainly had them, he was notoriously bad at talking about them.

Having done all her piled-up paperwork for the Leaky Cauldron the night before, Hermione wiled away the rest of the morning reading a very interesting book on the history of transferration of magic. It was rather old, though, and very outdated – most of the rites it described involved human sacrifice, among other grisly things.

-

If Draco was upset, it was nothing compared to what his mother was.

"What have you done?!" Narcissa cried, frantically pacing the smallest of their five dining rooms.

"I don't know!" Draco replied helplessly. "First she was mocking me about this stupid accident, and then all of a sudden she was yelling at me!"

"Well, do something about it!"

"I don't know if I can! She was mad, and I mean completely over the edge. I really think I've burned my bridges this time."

"Then rebuild them! Don't you realize what's at stake here?"

"That stupid ritual-"

"That's not what I mean. The ritual can go hang, you and I both know it won't work anyway. But angel, he's going to hurt you badly if he finds out about this! The only thing that will stop him from outright killing you is the fact that you're his only son, and I'm not sure that will be enough this time! He's so volatile these days, and now he's taken it into his head to do this thing, and if he thinks you ruined it-"

"But I haven't! He can use someone else, can't he? It doesn't actually have to be _her_."

"Yes, of course, and once he calms down he'll realize that. But by then it might be too late! Too late for _you_, any way, and that's what matters! Don't you see? So you need to either fix this, now, or leave. Go back to Switzerland."

Draco sighed in defeat, contemplating his choice, wondering which of the two was the lesser evil. On one hand, he really didn't like Granger. On the other-

"Fine," he said at length. "Fine. I'll win her over again. I'll crawl on my knees to get her back, I'll even befriend Potter if that's what it takes. I'll manage this, somehow I will, and father won't need to find out about this mess. Don't worry."

But where on earth would he start?

-

"...And there you have it," Hermione said, concluding her recapitulation of yesterday's events. She felt better after talking about it with Ginny, who listened, nodded sympathetically, and offered pieces of Mrs. Weasley's home made chocolate cake at all the right moments.

"Oh, Hermione, that's awful! That prat! If he was here right now, I swear I'd strangle him for you."

"Heh, you'd have to stand in line. Harry wasn't too happy with how things went either, and Ron's been wanting to strangle him since second year."

"First actually, as I recall it."

"Point is, you can only fit so many hands around that skinny little neck of his."

"True, I suppose. At least he'd still be dead."

"Well, yeah. But the important thing here is that I failed, Ginny. I knew how bad he was, I knew about all his ugly sides, and I still couldn't handle it!"

"You're only human. Besides, you stuck it out almost a whole week. In my book, that's pretty impressive."

"It's not enough, though. I mean, I knew he had an ulterior motive for seeing me – of course I did, he never would have gone out with me willingly – and it's not like I want to be instrumental in whatever plans they're working on, but if I was, then at least I'd be on the inside! I'd have a chance to stop it! But now..."

"Don't say that, Hermione. Look, do you really want to get him back?"

"Of course not! But I think I have to."

"In that case, I know just the thing."

Hermione blinked.

"You- you do?"

"Sure! You know music heals the heart, don't you?"

"Er... It does?"

"Of course it does. So what you need to do, is participate in Galinda Glint's song contest! Tonight!"

"... Tonight? Are you serious? It's not like I'm even signed up for this thing."

"Yes, you are."

"WHAT?!"

"I took the liberty, I hope you don't mind?"

"Ginny, there is absolutely no way I'm singing in public!"

"It's not in public, it's a radio show. I'm told the audience is very small."

"That's even worse! Everyone will be listening! Anyway, I don't see how this will help me get back the man I... hate."

"I do," said Ginny, sobering up. "You said yourself that Malfoy was only going out with you because of some ulterior motive. That means that he probably wants to get back together with you as well, doesn't it? All he needs is some kind of excuse."

Hermione paused.

"You know," she said slowly, "you might actually be right about that."

"I know I am. So, you go on the air, sing some dumb love song, get all sappy, you both confess your true love..."

"But... but then everyone will know about it!"

"Which will make it that much harder for him to go back on his word. You know he hates embarrassing himself in the public eye."

"But they'll hear me saying it too!"

"Meaning that this time, even your temper might not be enough to keep you two lovebirds apart."

Ginny grinned evilly. Hermione gazed at her hopelessly.

"I don't want to do this. I don't."

"Face it, Hermione, this is the best chance you have, because if it succeeds, there won't be any going back for either of you."

"I- But- All right. I'll do it, though God knows why I'm agreeing to this. I must be mad."

"So you must," agreed Ginny, downing the last of her tea in one long gulp. "Well, I'll be off, then. Don't you worry about a thing, I'll make sure Malfoy gets there tonight. Here's the address," she said, putting a small slip of paper down on the table as she rose. "Seven o'clock sharp, be there on time, or else."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there. It's been great talking to you, thanks _so_ much for cheering me up."

"Don't mention it," said Ginny, and with a jaunty wave she left the apartment.

Hermione took a few moments to pluck up her courage, before she too left her safe haven. Finally resigned to what fate had in stall for her, she went once more to Parvati and Lavender's salon.

-

It was half an hour before the show was about to start, and Hermione and Draco were ensconced in a small, claustrophobic cubicle, each studiously avoiding eye contact with the other.

"All right," said Hermione, after another few minutes. "This can't go on. We have to talk. More importantly, we have to practice, or we're going to make gigantic fools of ourselves before half the wizarding world."

"I, uh, I can't actually sing," muttered Draco. Hermione correctly interpreted this as an offer of truce.

"That's a shame, because neither can I. So do you want to practice? Because we're going to have to get through this debacle some how."

"Yeah. Yeah, let's," he replied, waving his wand at the gramophone placed on the table between them. It started playing the opening chords of a muggle song which Hermione vaguely recognized. The first lines of the lyrics appeared in silvery writing in the air, and Hermione, clearing her throat nervously, began to sing.

_We were strangers, starting out on a journey_

_Never dreaming, what we'd have to go through..._

Her voice broke atrociously on the high notes, but she mentally gritted her teeth and went on. Draco struggled with his part, trying to follow the tune as best he could, but it was pathetically obvious that he'd never heard the song before in his life, and had no idea how to sing it.

"They'll fix this sort of thing magically," he assured her, when they'd gone through the whole thing a second time and there was no sign of improvement. Hermione hoped so. Merlin, how she hoped so.

All too soon, Galinda herself came to fetch them in all her pink glory, smiling brightly and ushering them toward the stage. Hermione walked in a haze. This couldn't be happening, it couldn't. She barely heard Galinda introducing them, calling them the "star couple of the evening", and had to struggle to stay focused.

She made it through her bit, though, and though Draco's voice was far from superb, he managed to hit all the right notes. Then came the duet bit, the one she was least confident about.

_Life is a road that I want to keep going_

_Life is a river I want to keep flowing_

_Life is a road, now and forever_

_Wonderful journey_

And suddenly, after what felt like a couple of seconds, the song was over. But their performance wasn't, and the worst was yet to come, as she knew it must. Because Ginny was right. One of them would have to say the fatal words that would draw this farce out even longer, because they both had too much to lose not to. For an agonizingly long moment they stared at each other. Then Draco finally drew a deep breath, and spoke.

"Hermione, there's, ah, something I want to tell you."

"Yes?" Hermione replied, breathless for all the wrong reasons.

"I know I've said some stupid things, things I regret. And, Hermione – I love you."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to us.**

**A/N: A super-long chapter this time, by our standards. **

**10- Monday**

"_I know I've said some stupid things, things I regret. And, Hermione – I love you."_

"_Draco, I... I don't know what to say."_

"_Say you forgive me. Please, I'll do anything, anything to make you happy."_

"_I- Oh, Draco, of course I forgive you. I- I love you..."_

Hermione clenched her hands in her tangled hair, gritting her teeth as she frantically paced her small kitchen.

What had she gotten herself into? It had all happened so fast; had she gone too far?

No, she sighed to herself, sinking down onto a chair. No, it had all been necessary. But could anything possibly be worth this?

She tried to hold back the images of last night that kept flooding her mind. They had left the studio after the show, had gone for a walk – a _moonlit walk_, for God's sake! They'd held hands and whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears. Hermione hadn't actually thought it possible to whisper "sweet nothings" outside of especially stupid romantic clichés, but last night had proven her wrong.

Dammit, she missed Ron. She missed having a boyfriend she could actually talk to. Even their most pointless bickering had more substance to it than her lengthy romantic ramblings with Malfoy.

Ron was honest. Ron was reliable. And the fact that he could also be stubborn to the point of absurdity was just that much more endearing, at least now that she was comparing him with Malfoy. They might have shouting matches that would keep the whole neighborhood awake, but once they'd gotten whatever it was out in the open, they could generally move past it and everything would be fine again.

Not so with Malfoy. With him, there would be no clearing the air. They just smiled and simpered and pretended that the past few days hadn't happened (and that the past few years, if they had happened, had done so rather differently than they both remembered.)

_They were sitting on a park bench under a tree, a nearby streetlamp casting it's dim light over the scene._

"_Draco, tell me – how on earth did Ginny get you to come to the studio today?"_

"_Oh, she sent me a note. The way she phrased it, I just couldn't refuse. Look," he added, handing her a slip of parchment. It read;_

'Malfoy, you moron, do you even realize how idiotic your behavior is? You have one chance, and only one, to make it up to Hermione. Come to Galinda Glint's studio at seven o'clock tonight. If you don't, I will come and get you.

Ginny Weasley'

_Wow, Hermione thought. Ginny certainly had a talent for turning a phrase, when the situation called for it._

But insipid and mushy as all that had been, the really bad part had come later, much later. To be precise, just after midnight – that magic hour, when the most improbable things could, and did, happen.

"_Hermione," Draco said, after an especially long and tense period of silence. "I've been thinking. Do you- will you be mine?"_

"_What? Draco, I'm not sure I follow you. Do you mean yours, as in 'for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health', that sort of thing?"_

"_... Yes. That sort of thing."_

"_I, um, oh. This is sort of sudden, don't you think?"_

"_Do you love me, Hermione?"_

"_Yyyyes. I suppose I do, at that."_

"_Then why hesitate? Let us be... happy... together. Forever."_

"_Happy. Yes, I'd like to be happy."_

"_Let's get married, then."_

"_You're not being very romantic about this, you know."_

"_Should I get down on one knee? Recite a poem? I didn't think you'd appreciate things like that."_

"_You know me too well."_

"_So what do you say? You and me,' till death do us part?"_

"_I... would love to marry you, Draco. I'd love to."_

_And if there was something a bit flat, a bit resigned, in Hermione's tone of voice, Draco either didn't hear it or chose to ignore it._

"_I'm glad. You've made me a very happy man."_

"_That's great. But hey, what about the Death Eaters? You declared your love for a muggleborn today, in public. Won't they be after you?"_

"_Them? Oh, don't worry about them. Father had a word with them, it's fine, they'll leave us alone."_

"_You're saying your father is all right with this?"_

"_He's completely barking. What can I say?"_

"_... Fair enough." _

_And that was that. _

Tonight, they were going to announce it. They were engaged.

-

"You want me to WHAT?" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"You heard me. Just be at Malfoy Manor at five o'clock, all right? It's not that much to ask," said Hermione, exasperated.

"Yes it is! They might try to kill me!"

"Well- fine. But I'm not asking more of you than I am of myself, am I?"

"No, I suppose not."

"And besides, this whole thing may just be a big farce, but it's their farce as well as ours. I don't think they'll try anything."

"How do you know Malfoy's whole plan hasn't been leading up to this? That this is the big trap?"

"I don't, which is why we all have to be well prepared."

"Right. So, if this is unavoidable-"

"Which it is."

"-Then we need optimal reinforcements. No one eats or drinks anything once we're inside. The Ministry won't lend us any more Aurors, but Luna will of course be there, and Ginny-"

"Ginny can't be there as a spy, not this time. She was specifically invited as a guest. Malfoy is making out that he wants to bury all the old grudges."

"All right, but we can still count on her in a fight. We can forget about Ron, though – he could never be a spy, and it's too much of a stretch to pretend that he would ever try to make peace with Malfoy."

"Even if both sides are pretending?"

"Er, yeah, I'm pretty sure of it."

"Okay. But, one thing – Though I definitely think we should go ahead with as much security as possible, you should know that Malfoy is really making the wedding into a big thing. He was very insistent on setting the date ridiculously soon – I mean, the day after tomorrow! Honestly! So I have a sneaking suspicion that whatever it is they're planning, that's when it's going to happen."

"Maybe, but that's no reason to let our guard down now. I'll talk to Fred and George about some of that shadow powder, and check what else they have."

"Excellent. I'll talk to Ginny. And- Harry- "

"Yes?"

"Since we can't take Ron along, maybe... Maybe he should be kept out of this altogether."

"You mean, you don't want me to tell him? Hermione, why?"

"You know how he'll react if he finds out I'm marrying Malfoy. He won't care that it's just pretend, he'll try and stop it, and he'll get hurt. Maybe killed. I don't want that to happen."

"I know you don't, but you've got to trust him a bit more than that. And it's not fair to him to keep him in the dark."

"Oh, I know, but he'll get so upset, and-"

"Yeah, he'll take it badly. And why shouldn't he? I'm not exactly happy about it, and I'm not engaged to you. But we have to tell him. Just think what keeping something like this from him will do to him. I already know how I'd feel, if it was me."

"... All right. You talk to him. But please, please try to break it gently to him. Make him realize the seriousness of the situation."

"Of course."

"And make sure to tell him that I only intend to stay married to Malfoy for a matter of hours."

"I'll do that."

"And- and give him my love, will you?"

"Okay."

"Good. Ah, also, try not to murder Malfoy this afternoon."

"I'll... try. But I won't make any promises."

-

Draco sat stiffly on a high-backed wooden chair, wishing he could fidget but knowing that it would be a huge sign of weakness. A mere coffee table separated him from his worst enemy. It was not enough. But then, the world would not be enough of a barrier between the two of them.

He could handle Granger by now, and the Weaselette didn't seem like much of a threat, after all. But Potter...

He could feel the other man's anger at him radiating from across the room, and his own temper was rising in response. He had to keep a hold of himself for this to work, but Potter had always had an incredible knack for provoking him, often simply through the expression on his face.

Right now, it was just as smug as it always had been in their Hogwarts days, like after he had beaten him at a Quidditch match, or bested him in a spell. _I have fame and glory and the adulation of the masses,_ it said. _You don't. Ha ha._

Perhaps worst of all, there was pity there as well. Of course, the great and noble Harry Potter could afford to take pity on the poor, ostracized Draco Malfoy.

Draco gave himself a mental shake. He was working himself up into a rage. He really had to stop doing that. That was the behavior of a brutish Gryffindor, not an elegant, calculating Slytherin.

Speaking of which...

"Greetings and salutations," said Blaise, sauntering into the small parlor. His easy smile wobbled a bit, and his step lacked some of its spring, but apart from that...

"Don't you look unusually like your usual self," Draco remarked. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Serpentina? Oh, I expect she'll be along shortly. She was so excited about meeting you all, she wouldn't even go out with me last night because she had to do her hair."

"All night?" Draco asked, mildly astonished.

"Mmm. She has quite a lot of it. In any case, she should be here in a mo-"

Blaise stopped mid-syllable, interrupted by a loud crash. As one, everyone rushed to the windows to peer outside.

Blaise got there first, and whatever it was that he saw made him stumble backwards with an exclamation of horror. Draco elbowed his way to the front of the small crowd. The sight that met him almost made him gag, and he backed away as quickly as Blaise had done.

As the room they were in was on the first floor of the mansion, they could see the whole scene in all its gory detail. The remnants of a once beautiful, probably antique grande piano lay tragically shattered on the rolling green lawn. Protruding from underneath it, along with other things once belonging to a human, was a slender hand with green-tinted fingernails.

"Serpentina!" Blaise choked out.

"Oh, Blaise," said Hermione unexpectedly. "That was her? I'm so sorry..."

Blaise was quiet for a long moment. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, at loss for what to say to someone whose girlfriend was splattered over half the garden. But when he finally spoke, his words weren't what any of them were expecting to hear.

"Don't be. I'm actually... quite relieved."

"You're _what_?" Draco exclaimed, the others recoiling slightly. Blaise raised his head, meeting the shocked gaze of his friend.

"I'm as surprised as you, to tell you the truth. But suddenly I feel lighter, somehow. My head's clearer. I know I should be upset, but I'm just... not."

"Wait," Hermione interjected. "Blaise. Could you tell me a bit more about this- Serpentina, was it? I have a hunch."

"If you like," said Blaise indifferently. "She had this pretty unlikely mass of hair, sort of gold-colored and very thick. her eyes were like opals, green ones, which is very strange now that I think of it, and her smile was like the setting sun. I can't recall a single conversation we had – it's like an odd dream, really. But at the time I thought she had an amazing personality.

And, ha, she claimed that she had a "dancer's figure", but I've never seen a dancer built quite like that. Oh, and she came from somewhere in the United States."

"Aha!" said Hermione triumphantly. "You, Blaise, have been the victim of a _Nympha Supervacanea_!"

Everyone stared at her.

"Um, Granger, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, honestly. I know Harry, Ginny and Draco don't read, but I would have thought that you, of all people-"

"All right, all right, I get it. Now will you please explain?"

"The _Nympha Supervacanea_ originated in western Europe, but is now more commonly found in North America. She is believed to be a breed of Veela, though researchers are still puzzled by some of the anomalies in her behavior."

"A Veela? Are you sure? I saw her get really mad at this bartender, once, but somehow she just seemed more beautiful when she was screaming at him."

"That would be one of the anomalies. For some reason, the _Nympha Supervacanea_ does not turn into a bird when provoked, and is thus far more dangerous than a Veela, since she is harder to detect," said Hermione, sounding as though she was reciting from a textbook in her head.

"I... see," said Blaise. "So the girl I've been dating was not, in fact, human?"

"That's right. You were lucky," she added. "Their mating ritual involves pulling your brain out through your ears."

"It does? Really?"

"No, not really. But for all you knew, it could have. Be more careful next time, will you?"

The untimely death of Serpentina Flaxenlocks had the improbable effect of rather neatly breaking the ice. As house elves hurried outside to clean up the mess, the five young people settled back down in their seats, laughing guiltily. Classical music drifted in from the open windows. After only one lethal accident, Lucius Malfoy had gotten his roof-bound orchestra in order, and Draco thought that he seemed to be doing fine without the piano.

Now came the evening's first real challenge: small talk.

"So," said Draco, "How about that latest broomstick, eh, Potter?"

"How about it?"

"Well, what's it like? Is it any good?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know. I've read about it in _Which Broomstick_, I haven't flown it or anything."

"Come now, we all know you're the resident expert."

"We do? As I recall, you're not a bad flyer yourself. No need to be modest."

"Who's being modest? I'm just conceding my peer's superior skills. Now, I have it on decent authority that you've got the goods on the latest model, so spill."

"Ah, fine. They did ask me to promote it, but I refused. It's unethical, you know? Besides, that thing was all flash. No quality in sight. It's amazing that they can get it to stay in the air for longer than five minutes."

"Yeah, that was the one which kept spinning around in mid air, wasn't it?" Ginny interjected. "That thing's a death trap."

"What, you tried it too?" Draco exclaimed.

"Don't tell me you'd pass up the opportunity to try out a broom before it hit the market, if it ever came your way," Ginny replied rather snidely.

Draco bit his tongue, then decided to change the subject. Quidditch was obviously verbal quicksand with this group.

"I notice that you haven't touched your tea," he remarked. "I hope there's nothing wrong with it."

"Oh no, certainly not," replied Harry with a forced smile. "We're only waiting for you to drink first."

"You don't think I'd try to poison you?" said Draco, feigning hurt.

"Not at all," replied Ginny with equanimity. "We were simply observing the old wizarding custom, of the host opening every meal. We thought you would be one to stand by such traditions."

Blaise tried, and failed, to suppress a snicker. Draco shot a vicious glare at him, before turning back to his other guests.

"But of course," he said insincerely. "I simply hadn't expected you to follow our ways, having left them behind in so many other respects."

Ginny looked about ready to have an apoplectic fit, but didn't say anything, and Draco sipped his tea with a small smirk. A split second later, however, he spat it out.

"What the- Merlin! What _is _this?"

"Oh, how clumsy of me," Harry said with a big, friendly grin. "I must have put salt instead of sugar in there. Weasleys' patented salt puniceus, to be more exact. Ooops."

"You little-" Draco began, but he caught himself just in time. "Very funny, Potter," he snapped in stead.

"Oh, Malfoy," said Ginny, laughing. "You- look at you! Go look in a mirror! You're purple! Ahaha, it suits you."

Draco looked down at his hands, only to find that they were, indeed, a disturbing shade of lilac.

Hermione appeared to be the only one looking tolerably sympathetic of his plight, and right then he liked her best of all the people in the room.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten. It was no good. He still wanted to kill Potter. He had to get out of there, or do something he'd regret.

Making up some flimsy excuse, he got up and left the room as calmly as he could. As he closed the door he could hear them all start sniggering, including Blaise, that traitor.

It took some minutes for him to collect himself, and by the time he felt sane again the purple was starting to recede. He felt ready to return, and get the job done.

His head held high, he stalked back into the room, where the other four were chatting far too amiably for his liking. They really shouldn't be getting along. Sure, he knew Blaise could be as charming as anything when he wanted to, but this was just ridiculous.

"Ahem," he said, placing his hands on the back of Hermione's chair.

"You're back," commented Blaise. "Tail tucked between your legs, and all."

"No need to be like that," Draco remarked coolly, not rising to the bait. "Now, as you all know, you were invited here for a reason, not just because I wanted your company, charming though it is.The fact is, that Hermione and I are getting married the day after tomorrow."

The reactions of his guests were very satisfying. Harry's eyes widened, and Ginny gasped. Blaise choked on his tea, just like they'd agreed he would. The fact that he had evidently surprised Potter pleased Draco no end. He was, however, disappointed to note that the Weasley girl seemed to be recovering herself remarkably well.

"Oh, well," she sighed, rubbing her temple. "I should have seen this coming. "I mean, I know how much Hermione cares about you, Malfoy, though heaven knows why. But as long as she's happy, I guess... I guess I'm happy for you."

"I think we can learn to be friends," said Draco, smiling. "Our issues are very petty, really. I'm sure we can work past them."

"Yeah, we'll see," muttered Harry. Draco turned to look at him.

"You look fairly composed," he said. "I would have thought that this piece of news would rattle your cage a bit more."

"Malfoy, I want you to understand one thing," said Harry. "I'm not going to interfere in this, but I don't have to like it. So I'll stay away from you, and you'll stay away from me, and nobody gets hurt. All right? And I'm only doing this for Hermione."

Their gazes locked, and for a long time neither man either spoke or moved. An ornate harp crashed to the ground outside, but still they didn't break eye contact. Finally, Draco nodded.

"For Hermione."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hi! Sorry about the long delay, the thing is, we have no internet connection where we are currently staying. That's why we're uploading the last chapters at the same time, to get them up before book 7.

Disclaimer: All JK's, and we thank her for allowing us to use her characters.

**Chapter 12**

Narcissa had a lot to do. She had to clean the whole house and redecorate it, for the 'wedding reception'. A lot of important guests would be there, and if the rite went well, the party would probably last well into the night.

Narcissa didn't dare to contemplate what would happen if it went wrong. And, she recoiled from thinking about what the whole affair was doing to her family's reputation at present. She was resolved to pretend that her son was going to marry a blonde, pure-blooded witch from a good family, and that they were going to have lots of pretty Slytherin children.

Concentrating on that picture, Narcissa ordered about her house elves, changed the curtains into a different shade of green, rearanged the furniture in the living room and placed her silver tea set on the table. The one thing she didn't do during this hectic day, was think about Hermione.

-

Hermione and Ginny were in a fashionable boutique, looking for suitable wedding clothes. Hermione had picked out a light blue dress robe, which was both modest and revealing in a way which only magical garments could be. She did not intend to buy it, though.

"Oh, come on. Why not?" asked Ginny. "You could use it again when you decided to marry for real!"

"If I get married for real, I won't want to be reminded of _this _wedding," said Hermione. "I'll want to erase it completely from my mind. I'm only going to rent this one. Sorry."

"I'd love to wear a dress like that. If only Harry would-"

"He will, Ginny. Be patient. You know how hard commitment is for him."

"Yes, I know all about that."

"Anyway," said Hermione, after she had paid for the dress, "I've got to get to the library to see if they've got that book I asked for."

"Are you still trying to find out about that rite? The only things you know about it are that there's going to be a wedding at midnight in a grove during the full moon. That could describe about a hundred thousand different rituals."

"And I've read up on about five hundred now, so I'm making progress," said Hermione. Her voice turned steely. "I never give up, Ginny. You should know that by now."

"Yes," Ginny sighed. "But you already said it has something to do with Voldemort. That's all _I_ need to know."

"Well, I'm not about to run headlong into danger without preparing."

As they left the shop and started walking, Hermione spotted Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini exiting a shop on the opposite end of the street. She accidentely cought Draco's eye, and had to wait until he joined them.

"Hermione! Fancy seeing you here. And Weasl-Ginny Weasley! Charmed, I'm sure," he said. "I've got a present for you, dearest."

"Ouch!" Hermione cried out, as he shoved a rose into her hand so hard that a thorn pricked her finger.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Draco, and he appeared to be genuinly concerned. He wiped her bleeding finger with a hankerchief. Then he folded the hankerchief neatly, and pocketed it.

Hermione was instantly suspicious. Had he pricked her finger on purpose? Did he need her blood?

She looked him over in search for more clues, and was not disappointed.

"You could have told me if you wanted to have a New Age wedding, Draco," she said.

"A new what?"

"A New Age wedding. What are those crystals in your bag for?"

"Oh, these?" he said, and nonchalantly shook the bag he was carrying, which she could see contained several natural crystals. "Mum wanted to use them as decorations. She said they would reflect the light, and enhance the natural ambience."

"Well, I'm sure your mother knows best."

"I'm sure she does. Anyway, it's easier not to argue."

"Hello, ladies," said Blaise, who had strolled over. "How about having lunch with us? It's on me."

"No thanks," said Hermione quickly. "I have lots of things to do."

"Well, how about you then, Weaselette? You can't leave me to look at nothing but this lump, can you?" said Blaise, glancing at Draco.

"No, she can't either," said Hermione, before Ginny could speak. "I'll see you later, darling. Good bye!"

They hurried off.

-

"She seems to be in a bit of a bad mood," said Draco, frowning. "You don't suppose she's seen through our plan?"

Blaise looked thoughtful.

"I've been out of my head for quite a while, you know, with that whole Serpentina business," he said slowly. "But if she knew about the plan, why would she go along with it?"

"You're right," said Draco, relieved. "She was probably just a bit stressed..."

-

The book Hermione had asked for had indeed arrived. Seating herself in a lonely corner of the library, she started paging through it. She had not gotten far, though, before she felt a dark, ominous presence close by. A man was looking over her shoulder. She could identify him by his raspy breath, and the unmistakable sound of a billowing cloak, before he had even spoken.

"I see you're on to them," he said. His voice was deep, yet nasal. She turned around, and looked up into the face of Severus Snape.

"You!" she hissed. "Ginny told me you were involved in this business!"

"Did she now."

"So what are you going to do now? Run off to warn Malfoy?"

"You ought to be more charitable than that, Granger. Did I not fight alongside the Order in the final battle against the Dark Lord?"

"It was hard to tell, honestly! The way you kept switching sides made things downright impossible! Besides, how can I forgive you for killing Dumbledore?"

"You can well say I have done some objectional things, but it was always for the greater good."

"So you say, but how on earth am I supposed to trust you?"

"I don't expect you to. But if you turn to page 328, I think you might find what you seek."

With that, he glided back into the darkness. Hermione stared after him. Then she returned to her book, and turned the pages until she reached page 328. It wouldn't hurt to look, would it?

She read the contents of the page, mouth agape.

"Surely they wouldn't," she whispered. "They couldn't, could they?"

Yet it all fit. The crystals, her blood, and other things mentioned which she could well believe they might have collected from her without her knowing. Talismans.

The ritual had originated with a small wizard cult on the Farrow islands. When their leader died, they had found a way to reawaken his magical powers and transfer them to the next leader. It was obvious why the Malfoys wanted to perform such a rite - she had been right about the Voldemort connection. Lucius didn't want to bring Voldemort back to life; he wanted to have his powers for himself. And he wanted to get revenge on her.

According to the text, the ritual demanded the soul of a young witch born of muggle parents. It was typical of the Malfoys to actually believe the witch's parentage would be necessary for the ritual to succeed. And they wanted _her_ soul. Losing one's soul was worse than dying. So that was what Blaise had meant with poetic justice, was it?

Did Draco know what the ritual involved? It seemed unlikely, considering the risks involved in dabbling with this kind of ancient magic. Draco himself might be seriously hurt. And somehow, he had never struck her as the type for ritual homocide. His father, yes. But his father wasn't going to be the one standing at the altar, was he? Did Draco know what he was getting into?

She realized she couldn't back out now either, for the same reason that she had gone back to Draco before. If the Malfoys couldn't use her for the ritual, they would find some other poor girl and destroy her soul instead. Hermione didn't want that on her conscience.

-

It was drawing towards evening, and the sky darkened outside, but the small pub was brightly lit. It wasn't a famous place like The Leaky Cauldron or The Hog's Head. That was why Ron had chosen it. He wanted some peace and quiet.

He sat at the bar, staring forlornly into his mug of oak-matured mead. Why did the world hate him?

Well, all right, the world didn't _hate_ him, per se, but it was certainly having a lot of fun at his expense. It was probably laughing and pointing.

Of all the things he'd thought that that ridiculous plan could lead to, Hermione getting married to Malfoy hadn't been among them. It was beyond anything he could have concieved of. He didn't know what to do, he felt completely powerless. To try to stop the whole thing would be futile. He would probably end up getting arrested, and then where would he be? But there was a part of him that wanted to go berserk on the whole Malfoy clan.

He heaved a deep sigh. This wasn't doing him any good at all. On top of all his other troubles, the mead was second rate at best. If he was going to mope and get drunk, he wanted high-quality stuff.

He startd to get to his feet.

"Oh, are you leaving?" said a female voice from somewhere in the region of the ceiling.

"Yeah, so what?" Ron snapped, glaring upwards.

There, near the rafters, floated the ghost of Pansy Parkinson. Ron did a double take.

"Parkinson...? I didn't know you'd come back."

"Why should you? It's not as if I've ever had anything to talk to you about. Mostly I just follow Draco around. I thought I'd haunt him for a while, but I've kept out of sight so he wouldn't file a restraining order. We used to be so close, but now... you know, it's not the whole 'pretending to marry a mudblood' thing I object to the most."

"Don't you say that word, you stuck up, pug-faced-"

"No, really. It's just that the plan is dangerous for him. That's what worries me."

"You bet it's dangerous. When I get my hands on that ferret-"

"Oh, what do you think you're going to do? Really, Weasley."

"I don't know. I'll improvise."

"And what good will that do? Look, I'm just as against it as you are, though perhaps for a different reason. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. The marriage has to be stopped."

"Er... you do know that the marriage isn't meant to last, right?"

"That's not the point! It's the ceremony, the rite. They're going to restore You-Know-Who's powers."

"What?!" Ron choked. "They can't bring him back, we destroyed all the horcruxes!"

"Not him. His_ magic. _But the rite, it's really dangerous. If it goes wrong it could destroy his soul. It'll definitively destroy hers."

Ron's mouth went dry.

"You're sure about this?"

"I'm sure. I heard Lucius Malfoy telling Snape about it. Draco doesn't know, and he won't listen to me. And Lucius really believes it can't go wrong..."

Ron stood up so abruptly that the bar stool tipped over.

"I don't care what they said," he declared loudly, to the astonished patrons. "I'm going to put a stop to it!"

Right then, Harry rushed in, slamming the door behind him. He was out of breath. Completely ignoring Pansy, he focused on Ron.

"There's been a change of plans," he panted.

"Harry! You know about the rite?"

"Yeah, I know. Now come on! We have no time to lose!"


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs entirely to JK Rowling.

**Chapter 13: Le Grande Finale**

They talked late into the night, and far into the morning. Indeed, the sun had long since risen above the horizon before they had formed any kind of feasible plan of action.

"All right," said Hermione, "Let's see if I've got this right. We will pretend to go along with the wedding as planned. Parvati Patil will be my maid of honour, and Padma will there as a guest. They always get underestimated, so they'll be perfect. We will to all intents and purposes appear to be grossly outnumbered."

"Yes. However," said Harry, "Ron and I will be hiding nearby, under my invisibility cloak. Ginny, Fred and George will use their improved shadow-powder, and our trump card will be Luna. Who is not present at this moment, because she is preparing."

"Preparing what, exactly?" Ron asked.

Harry hesitated.

"Well, she said she had a plan, but she was very vague about it."

"You mean you don't know what she's up to?"

"Strictly speaking - no."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to trust in each other, then," said Ginny. "Luna can usually come up with something good. I wish we had more people, though..."

"We can't get more help from the department of Magical Law Enforcement, they don't have more resources at the moment," said Harry. "We could always round up a few friends from Hogwarts, like some old members of the DA."

"Yes, we should check with Neville," said Hermione. "And Lavender, too - oh, don't get in a huff," she said, when Ron winced. "Lavender's grown up. She's moved on. Honestly. Oh, and Hannah and Ernie."

"Maybe we should contact people from the old order as well," said Ginny. "Some of them are still around."

"Yes, that would be great," said Harry. "Could you handle that, Ginny?"

"Anything for you, darling."

"That'll give us a big crowd alright," said Ron. "How are we going to get them all inside?"

"You leave that to us," said Fred, winking.

-

"Everything is in order, dear," Narcissa trilled.

"Oh. Good," said Draco. He felt dead inside.

"My, don't you look marvellous!"

"Mum, what exactly do you think is going on?"

"My only son is getting married!"

"I'm not getting married, I'm-"

_"Getting. Married."_ said Narcissa, through clenched teeth.

"Oh, fine." Draco settled back.

"I recieved a letter from your aunt Bellatrix, by the way," said Narcissa, as she poured him a generous cup of tea. "She's coming back from Argentina just for this occasion."

Draco paused over his cup.

"Aunt Bellatrix?"

"Oh, don't look so surprised. It is a big night, you know."

"Yes, but-" Draco had never liked his psychotic aunt Bellatrix. Never had, never would. She was more mad than his father. He had enough to deal with as it was. "Mum? How did you get mixed up with all these insane people?"

"They're not insane, they're eccentric. Now drink your tea."

Narcissa sighed. Draco finally noticed how tired she was, and realized the ordeal must be just as demanding for her as it was for him.

"Mum? After this is over, father will recieve all of the Dark Lord's powers, right?"

"That's... right."

"Doesn't the thought scare you just a little?"

"Well, life with your father has never been dull, dear."

"True."

He drank the rest of his tea in silence.

-

Luna smiled in contentment, and lifted her omniocculars. She was sitting high in a tall tree, well hidden with a disilusionment charm. It was amazing how far those could get you. She had cast a few other charms as well, of course, a couple of complicated keep away spells. This particular person she was following might actually have reason to believe she was being shadowed, as she had recently been coerced by Death Eaters to precide over a highly objectionable ceremony.

Spying was quite fun, Luna reflected. Her creature hunting had given her experience which had made her valuable to her auror friends. She was glad to help, of course. It made her happy to feel she had something to contribute. She had never been fond of Malfoy. But still, she was impatient for this business to be over so she could get back to her absorbing research. Those rare magical creatures wouldn't categorize themselves, or if they did, they wouldn't report it to her. Except for the Charkbat. That one had been interesting.

Well, better get to it then, she thought, as she slowly raised her wand.

-

Hermione pulled on her coat over her new wedding dress. She was going to do it. It had taken her a good part of the day to realize that. She was actually on her way to her wedding. With Malfoy. This was 'the happiest day of her life'. Of course, the circumstances were a bit different than a normal wedding, but a wedding it was, nontheless. And she was doing it to protect not only innocent lives, but _his_ life. What had gotten into her these last few days? This scheme was completely mad. She knew the trap had been set for her, and she was walking right into it, with her eyes wide open. She almost wished someone would stop her.

"Oy, Hermione!"

_Oh no._

"Ron? What are you doing?"

"Look, I'm not going to try to stop you, Hermione-"

"Really?"

"I mean it! I've thought things through since yesterday, and I know why you're doing this. I know why it's important," he said earnestly. "I'm not dense."

Hermione relaxed a bit, and smiled.

"So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Nothing really, I just came to say good luck. And, I won't let anyone come to harm tonight, except maybe-"

"Try to restrain yourself, please. And Ron? Maybe when this is over, _we_ should settle on a date."

He grinned nervously.

"Yeah, we'll do that. And then there'll be no more of these sidetracks, right?"

"Right. Then it'll be just the two of us, I promise. Thanks, I feel a lot better now!" she cried, hugging him.

And she ran off, leaving Ron thinking she was just as mad as she always had been. She really hadn't changed much. That thought cheered him up immeasurably.

-

Draco streightened his ceremonial robes one last time, and stared blankly into the mirror.

"Does this look okay?" he asked. "I really can't tell. I can't stop thinking about... other things."

"Really? That's a first."

"Oh, shut up."

Blaise obligingly shut his mouth. But Draco couldn't leave things quiet. He was desperate to take his mind off what was about to happen to him. He needed to talk to someone.

"I can't believe I'm really going through with this," he burst out.

"There's still time to run away, you know."

"I know, but I can't. I have a feeling I can't leave this unfinished."

"Are you sure? I think _I_ might run away."

"You don't have to. You always come out on top, you luky bastard."

"That's right. Well," said Blaise, with mock solemnity. "It's been nice knowing you, old chap. We've had some good times, haven't we? And when you die, you'll at least know you'll have no unfinished business to keep you here."

"Well, that's something, at any rate. Wish me luck, Blaise."

"Of course. You're going to need every bit of it."

"You've been a real friend."

"No I haven't, and you know it. Now get on with it."

"Right. Here we go..."

-

"Here we go," whispered Hermione. This was it. No turning back now.

She was walking towards the altar, at a slow, stately pace. Everyone in the clearing was watching as she strolled down the makeshift isle, holding her bouquet of odd, exotic flowers which Narcissa had picked out.

Parvati stood by the altar next to Draco and Blaise Zabini, looking nervous but very stylish. Hermione glanced around. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were there, as well as Severus Snape. He didn't catch her eye. She wondered what he was up to, if he had somehow dubbelcrossed them all. Did _he_ even know what side he was on? Padma Patil and Lavender Brown stood apart from the others, huddling close together. They both seemed out of place, and very scared. Hermione couldn't blame them at all. And she had gotten them into this. If anything happened, she was responsible. She gritted her teeth.

The priestess was an elderly woman, wearing a stained, yellow robe, and a lopsided hat. She smiled at Hermione.

"Place the flowers on the altar by the crystals, dear," she said. Hermione obeyed.

As she did so, her eye was caught by a tall figure, shrouded in a dark cloak, standing in the bows of a yew tree. Although she couldn't see the person properly, she somehow knew it was a woman. Who was it? Friend? Foe? Doublecrosser a'la Snape?

She was forced back to the proceedings, when the priestess cleared her throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Witches and wizards. Friends and... other friends. This is an auspicious day indeed," she said in the hoarse voice of someone who had smoked far too much tobacco. "Speaking of auspicious days," she added, "did you all know that the Hogsmead market will open on its two hundredth aniversary a week from now? I've heard Stubby Boardman will be there, and I think it will be very good. Of course, I used to think he was Sirius Black in disguise, you know, but he wasn't. He's still a good singer though."

Hermione blinked several times. This was the priestess who was going to perform the ancient blood ritual? It sounded like she had read one too many copies of The Quibbler.

The Malfoys were getting impatient. Lucius glared murderously, but the priestess kept rambling on, seemingly oblivious.

"Marriage is what brings us together. Which is really odd, you know, because Malfoys wouldn't usually marry muggleborns, would they? I'm surprised anyone would want to marry a Malfoy, actually, because they're not very nice people at all. I suppose it's not really their fault though, because they were raised that way. My dad always said you should think for yourself. I think I do think for myself. Of course, you never know if it might not be a Wrackspurt that's controlling my thoughts and making me _think_ I'm thinking for myself. Minds are very fragile, you know. I read an article about a man in the Himalayas who can hypnotize people just by humming a certain tune. I think it goes something like this: La-dada-da-di-da-day-"

At this point, however, she was interrupted by Lucius, who was absolutely livid.

"Will you get on with it!" he yelled, standing up. "Start performing the ritual to restore the Dark Lord's powers right now!"

The priestess seemed to contemplate this for a moment, smiling serenely.

"No," she said at length. "No, I don't really want to."

"WHAT!?"

"Well, it is quite a nasty ritual, and we priestesses do have our integrity, you you know."

"You were hired to-"

"To marry these two? So I was. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, to witness the union of-"

"NO! We don't want to be united!" Hermione shrieked, without thinking.

"What? Yes we do," said Draco.

"No! No, we don't!" The words came in a rush. She couldn't stop herself. This had to be said now, for both their sakes. "Look, Malfoy, this farce has got to end before someone gets hurt. I know very well what you were hoping to accomplish, but I don't think you know what this ritual involves. They need to take the soul of a muggleborn for this to work, do you understand?"

Draco started. Then he said,

"Well, Granger, if you don't think I'm willing to sacrifice one mudblood..." but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice, and his eyes were shifting.

"No, Malfoy, I don't. You've never killed anyone before. Besides, I'm not the only one who could die here. The power was never going to be transferred to Lucius, it was going to be transferred to you! Lucius didn't want to risk harming himself in the ritual. He knows that that much power could rip apart your mind!"

"That's not true!" Lucius shouted. "None of that is true!" Narcissa was barely able to restrain him.

"Draco," Hermione persisted, "if this would be too much for Lucius to take, it would be far beyond anything you could handle."

"But then, why would he-"

"Because if it _did_ work," said Hermione, looking Draco fixedly in the eyes, "then he would have one of the most powerful forces in the wizarding world at his disposal."

"It's not true, Draco. She's lying, Draco," said Lucius.

Draco looked from his father to Hermione, seeming uncertain what to believe.

"Oh, come on," Hermione hissed. "I know he's your father, but now, at this moment, which one of us is the more likely to be telling the truth?"

To her, the answer seemed obvious, but it took a while for realization to dawn on him. He gazed at her hopelessly.

Then the priestess interrupted.

"Still, it doesn't really matter, does it? Because there isn't going to be a ritual." And suddenly, her voice was that of a young woman.

Everyone turned to look at the priestess, whose hair had turned dirty blonde and whose wrinkles were smoothing out. Luna blinked at them, with her big, dreamy eyes.

"Oh, it seems the potion's worn off," she said cheerfully. "You know, it's quite fortunate that I had some polyjuice potion stored up, or else I wouldn't have been able to disguise myself this way. Sometimes you're just lucky, aren't you."

As if her revelation had been a signal for them to emerge, Ron and Harry cast off the invisibility cloak. Fred, George, Ginny and the rest stepped out of the shadows. Hermione, Luna, Parvati, Padma and Lavender simultaneously raised their wands.

"We knew all along that you were up to something," Harry said to the Malfoys. "But never did we guess..."

"I did," Hermione protested.

"Well, of course, Hermione found out about your plan eventually. But the point is, you people never really thought we'd let Hermione marry Malfoy, did you?"

"No, we never did," said Narcissa unexpectedly.

"Now!" shouted Lucius, and at once, a number of Death Eaters stepped out of the shadows _behind_ Harry and the gang.

Hermione sharply sucked in her breath.

"Actually, we thought you would try something like this," said Lucius. "So naturally, we guarded ourselves. Don't think you will escape here alive."

"But we're still missing someone," said Narcissa gleefully. "Doesn't my sister want to join the party?"

The woman Hermione had spotted among the trees gave a low, raspy chuckle, and lowered her hood as she entered the glen. Bellatrix Lestrange's haggard face was split in a frigheningly sinister grin. Hermione shuddered.

"You didn't think I'd miss my dear nephew's wedding, did you?" she said, pinching Draco's cheek condescendingly. Then she went over to her sister and brother in law, and placed herself in between them.

"Cissy," she said. "This hasn't quite gone according to plan, has it?"

"Not as well as we'd hoped, no, but it's under control."

"Hm," said Bellatrix. "I wonder."

Then there was a smashing noise. Lucius Malfoy opened his mouth slightly, swayed a bit, and fell to the ground with a _thunk. _He was unconscious. The Death Eaters gasped when they saw what had happened. Bellatrix Lestrange had hit him over the head with a full bottle of butterbear.

She was now pointing her wand at Narcissa.

"Sorry, Cissy," she said. "But we both know he's been needing to go to St Mungos for ages now anyway."

"Bella?! Bella, how can you-"

_"Stupify!"_

As Narcissa fell down, Bellatrix's wand was now pointed at Snape, who had been standing behind the Malfoys.

Hermione glanced around. The surrounding Death Eaters didn't look like they were about to budge. They all seemed to be frozen in shock. Even her friends were surprised at this new development - all except Ginny...

"I think I've even managed to rattle _you_ this time, Severus Snape," said Bellatrix.

"On the contrary," Snape replied. "I knew it was you all along... Tonks."

Bellatrix, or Tonks, looked a bit nettled.

"So why didn't you expose me, then? I know you tipped the Malfoys off about what Harry was up to. You must have. You also helped Hermione. Whose side are you on this time?"

"That would be telling, wouldn't it," said Snape. He checked his pocket watch. "Well, since the situation seems to be rapidly deteriorating, I think I'd better leave. My portkey should be ready in-"

There was a noise like a loud explosion, and Snape disappeared in a puff of smoke.

For a few precious moments, everything was absolutely silent.

"I will never understand that man," Tonks finally sighed. Then she levelled her wand at the nearest Death Eater.

_"Incendio!" _she yelled, and the fight was on.

Curses flew in every direction. Everyone was shouting. Harry had twisted out of McNair's grip, while Ron elbowed Knot in the face and Fred stabbed Crabbe senior in the eye with his wand. Ginny flung a batbogey hex which narrowly missed Blaise, who swore at her before leaping onto a summoned broomstick and flying off. Hermione, forgetting about Draco for the time being, waded into the fray. She managed to rescue Ernie McMillan from one of Millicent Bullstrode's jinxes, and knocked out both Crabbe and Goyle with stunners.

All around, people were fighting. But the tide had turned in their favour. Gradually, more and more Death Eaters were being put out of action. Tonk's Bellatrix stunt, Snape's desertation and the ease with which Lucius had been incapacitated, had completely demoralized them, and they were only resisting half-heartedly.

Hermione saw Draco grab hold of a broomstick, which he had evidently summoned a few moments before. She would never quite understand afterwards why she did it, but she ran up to him and grabbed his arm.

"Are you going to arrest me?" he asked, hollowly.

"I - no. No, don't be silly. I just wanted to know: was I right about you?"

"What? Oh yeah, I guess."

"Where are you going now?"

"Back to the house to pack some things, and then, who knows? Not to Switzerland, I can tell you that. Just somewhere far away from here."

"Alright. As long as you stay out of my hair from now on."

"Yeah. Likewise."

"Well, goodbye I guess."

"'Bye."

"Good luck!" said Hermione, as flew away into the sky - and she thought she heard him reply, "You too!"

She had made peace with one old enemy tonight.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, we haven't made any money from our stories.

Epilogue.

Blaise caught Draco by the arm as he headed out the door.

"What are you doing here?" Draco demanded. "Did you run away from the fighting?"

"Draco, my friend," said Blaise patiently. "The secret of always coming out on top, is to run away before things get really messy."

Draco shrugged.

"So, you're leaving again, aren't you," said Blaise. "Any idea where to? I've heard Sweden is supposed to be nice this time of year."

"Really? I've heard it's supposed to be miserable. Anyway, Sweden sounds like Switzerland all over again. I thought, maybe, how about... Finland."

"...Finland?"

"Finland," said Draco, more decisively. "It's the country where I quite want to be."

"Alright," said Blaise, slowly. "I hope Finland survives you."


End file.
